Tim's Twelve Days of Christmas
by Songbird1414
Summary: Tim doesn't get into the holidays much, but that's about to change. (Just a little Christmas fluff!) (Some of the reviews contain spoiler alerts!)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own any characters from Justified. I own Laylah, Ronnie, Brian, Brandon, and Betty.**

 **Warning: Some of the reviews contain spoiler alerts!**

 **I'd love to know what you think! Please review :)**

Laylah pulled into her usual parking space beside the shop she and Ronnie, her best friend in the world, owned. Ronnie was already there, but it was Laylah's turn to close the shop so she'd slept in and she didn't feel bad about it. She stepped out of her car and pulled her caramel colored trench coat around her a little tighter before grabbing her purse and craft bag out of the back seat. She headed to the sidewalk, distracted by the day ahead of her.

She was about to step onto the sidewalk from the parking lot when a man blew past her at top speed. Man, if she'd been in his way, he'd have knocked her down for sure.

"Rude," she muttered under her breath as she stepped around the corner of the building onto the sidewalk. She collided with what felt like a rock wall and would have fallen unceremoniously on her backside, but strong arms reached out and grabbed her just above the elbows.

Laylah looked up and realized the rock wall had blue eyes. "Sorry, miss," he said as he released her. "You alright?"

Laylah realized he had a badge and a gun on his hip and he was in a hurry to continue chasing the first man. "I'm fine," she nodded.

"You sure?" He asked as he took a couple of quick steps around her.

"Yes," Laylah nodded toward the back of the man disappearing down the street.

He took off like a light but Laylah was sure she'd allowed his subject to get away. She shook herself and headed toward her pride and joy. "Handmade."

She entered and was immediately assaulted by the smell of fall. Cinnamon spiced tea was brewing behind the counter, allowing the aroma to permeate through the small store in the most tantalizing way. Right now they were offering just the tea and salted caramel chocolate chip cookies, but after Thanksgiving they'd add hot chocolate and replace the chocolate chip cookies with gingerbread cookies. She couldn't wait.

On top of the smell was the sound of relaxing piano music that was just loud enough to not be background noise. It wasn't a big shop, but as far as Laylah was concerned, it was a little slice of heaven.

Laylah always entered the store with a critical eye. If anything was out of place, she wanted to see it immediately so that she could fix it. The holiday section was immediately to her left and she made a mental note to come back and rearrange a couple of displays to eliminate the empty spots where items had sold. The baby area and wedding area seemed alright, but the handmade gift cards needed some attention as well. Ronnie was already busy straightening the craft supplies.

"Hi," Ronnie said as she blew her strawberry blonde curls out of her face. Ronnie, or Veronica, was as perky as she was petite with enough energy to take on several projects at once and complete them all with amazing results. She usually headed up several charity drives each year while teaching quilting and baking classes and running the store. Since she'd opened today, Ronnie had made the cookies and if they ran low today, Laylah would have to spend a couple of hours replenishing them tonight.

"Good morning," Laylah set her stuff behind the counter and took off her coat. "Slow morning?"

"It is now," Ronnie said. "But I had five customers in here at once about twenty minutes ago."

Laylah nodded as she headed toward the front of the store, running her fingers through her hair as she did. She began in the window of the holiday section. This close to Thanksgiving, the fall and harvest selection was dwindling and the Christmas selection was growing but Laylah kept a definite line between the two. She pulled several items out of the window and looked up as two men walked by.

One man was in handcuffs being pushed forward by the other. Laylah was certainly surprised. She'd assumed that her collision with the Marshal had given his prey ample time to get away. The man in handcuffs was glowering at the ground, but the Marshall turned toward the window and grinned at her as he passed. Laylah found herself smiling in return. She told herself it was because one more bad guy was off the streets, at least for now, and not the pair of crystal blue eyes above the smile. She shook her head and returned to rearranging the window display.

Forty-five minutes later, Laylah and Ronnie were both making Christmas cards when the bell above the door jingled. Laylah was in the middle of glittering up a stamped Christmas tree so she didn't look up right away.

"Hello," she said, "please let us know if we can help you find anything." She looked up to see the Marshal walking toward the counter. "Oh, hi," she said.

"Hi," he smiled. "I just wanted to make sure you were really okay, Miss...?"

"Rawlings, Laylah Rawlings," Laylah said and because her friend was eying them suspiciously, she introduced her. "This is my friend, Ronnie Harris."

"Ma'am," the marshal gave Ronnie a friendly nod. She gave him a friendly smile in return.

"And I'm fine," Laylah nodded. "Really."

He nodded too. "I just didn't feel right about not followin' up with you."

Laylah smiled. "I appreciate that," she said, "but really I'm fine."

"Okay," he produced a business card, "but if you find you're not, please contact me. The Marshal's service will handle any expenses."

Laylah took the card. "Thank you," she said.

The man nodded then nodded to Ronnie. "Ma'am," he said again. "Have a nice day," he looked at each of them in turn.

"You too," Ronnie called after him as he headed for the door. As soon as it was closed behind him, Ronnie leaned against the counter, careful of her supplies. "Alright, spill it."

"Spill what?" Laylah tried to look innocent.

"Don't play that way with me, I wasn't born yesterday," Ronnie leaned toward Laylah. "A cute guy with a badge waltzes in here and gives you his phone number. What's up?"

Laylah relayed the events from earlier before looking down at the card. Deputy US Marshal Tim Gutterson.


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday, December first was like any other day in the bull-pen, except that in the middle of the late morning, Wendy began stopped by everyone's desk. Tim groaned. Wendy was too perky, too happy, to work in the Marshal's office, even if she was the admin clerk and didn't deal with fugitives directly. Aside from her demeanor, Tim dreaded the reason for her hopping from desk to desk today.

"Hi Tim," Wendy practically bounced when she reached his desk. "We're drawing for Secret Santas," she wiggled an upturned hat too close to his face for comfort. "Thirty dollar limit."

"It's too late to back out, isn't it?" Tim asked, hoping to get out of it.

Wendy nodded. "You're name's already in the pot. If you didn't want to be in, you should have told me by Monday."

Tim sighed and reached a hand in the hat, pulling out one slip of paper, letting several others fall back into the hat.

Please be Raylan, Tim thought. Or Art. They'd be happy with a bottle of bourbon. Last year he'd gotten Nelson a bunch of fishing supplies and that had gone over well. He hoped against hope for another easy year.

He unfolded the slip of paper and glanced down at the name. Rachel Brooks. Crap.

When Tim left for lunch a little over half an hour later, he knew that he might as well start shopping. The longer he'd procrastinate, the fewer ideas he'd have and he'd wind up getting Rachel something she wouldn't like or nothing at all.

What's office appropriate? Tim wondered as he waited for the elevator to take him to the ground floor. He knew that Rachel wore the same perfume every day but he had no clue what it was or where to get it and he thought maybe that was crossing the line of professionalism. Hair products? He shuddered and realized he needed help. He hurried off the elevator and out the door of the courthouse.

The store was only down and across the street so he walked even though it was more than brisk. He walked back into Handmade with his heart rate a little faster than normal and it wasn't from the walk. He'd spent almost two weeks trying to forget a pair of large doe-brown eyes and the short, curvy-in-all-the-right-places woman they belonged to.

She was behind the counter, this time with a pair of knitting needles in her hands. "Hi," her bright greeting assaulted his ears just after the instrumental Christmas music. Again, cinnamon overwhelmed his sense of smell and made his mouth water.

"Hello again," he said as he slowly headed toward her. He glanced around and realized he was the only one in the store. He'd gone to lunch a little early and he must have beaten the rush.

"What brings you in today?" She asked, setting aside her knitting.

"Office Secret Santa," he said. "I drew the name of one of my female coworkers and I honestly have no idea what to get her."

"What would you give one of your male coworkers?" She asked.

"Ammo or bourbon," Tim answered.

"Really?" Laylah wrinkled her nose.

"That's what I'd want," Tim said with a shrug.

"Well, I don't have a liquor license, but would you like some tea or hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate?" Tim arched an eyebrow.

Laylah smiled. "Whipped cream?" She turned toward the hot plate.

"Is there any other way to have hot chocolate?" Tim asked.

She laughed and her laughter sounded like bells and sunshine. "Not if you have it the right way," she added a generous spray of the white topping before dusting the whipped cream with shaved chocolate and a little cinnamon. She set the small mug before him and set a plate of ginger cookies beside it.

"You really go all out for your customers," Tim said before taking a cautious sip of his hot chocolate, making sure he didn't have a whipped cream mustache when he lowered his mug. "That's really good," he said. "How'd you get it that thick?"

Laylah glanced around and then leaned forward like she was afraid of someone overhearing her secret. "Did you know," she said quietly, "that America is the only country that doesn't add melted chocolate to hot chocolate?"

"I didn't know that," Tim said. "But I'll never have a regular cup of hot chocolate again," he said.

Laylah nodded. "Just add some chocolate chips," she said. She straightened. "Now, as for your gift..." Her voice trailed off and she made a sweeping motion across the store. "What's your price range?" She asked.

"Thirty dollars," Tim answered before taking a bite of a cookie shaped like a Christmas present. It had just the right amount of vanilla frosting. "Rachel's cool, though, so I don't mind if I go a little over for the right gift, but I can't go too far over or everyone else will feel bad."

Laylah nodded in understanding. "Feel free to look around," she said. "There's a lot of great stuff in the holiday section, or you might try the wearables- there's some great scarves and purses.

"Thank you," Tim turned back toward the store and glanced around. Every section of the store had a Christmas tree. The card section had a four foot tree with lights and paper ornaments all over it while the craft supplies section had one adorned with stamps and hole punches. The wedding/anniversary section had a five foot tree with white lights and gold and silver wedding themed ornaments. The home section had one with green lights and red and white kitchen utensils on it and the baby section had one with blue lights and pink, blue, green, and yellow ornaments. The wearables section had a tree decorated with jewelry.

The jewelry was unique, but Tim wasn't a complete idiot. He knew enough to stay away from jewelry like it was the plague.

"Where's your friend?" He asked as he browsed.

"Ronnie?" Layman asked. "She went to get us lunch."

Tim nodded and since he couldn't think of anything else to say, he just looked around. He liked several things in the holiday section, there was an adorable snowman family and some of the glass ornaments were really cool, but he wasn't sure about getting Rachel something she'd only use one month out of the year.

Several people wandered in while he was looking but Tim found he wasn't in a hurry. Laylah had pointed him in the right direction and he was content to browse while he finished his hot chocolate.

"Do you guys make everything in here?" He asked, taking the mug back to her during a lull in her sales. There were still several people in the store, but they hadn't asked for help.

"Almost everything," Laylah nodded. "Ronnie, and I own the store and she and I make most of it. We have a few locals who sell us things and we go to auctions and estate sales to look for handmade vintage things as well."

Tim nodded. "So the sign is accurate," he said.

Laylah nodded. "The only things we don't make are the supplies people can buy to make their own handmade things." She motioned toward the craft section with a generous selection of papers, stamps, cut-outs, needles, yarn, and fabric.

Tim settled on a gray and black scarf, hat, and gloves set that he hoped would go nicely with Rachel's black coat and headed up to the counter. No one was in line behind him and he didn't rush the check-out process. Laylah didn't rush carefully folding the items and placing them in a nice black paper bag and stuffing silver tissue paper on top. Tim realized he wouldn't even need to wrap the gift.

Laylah started to hand him his purchase, but her eyes drifted behind Tim and suddenly, she snatched it back and stashed it under the counter. Tim was confused.

"If you stay for a minute, I'll make it up to you," she said under her breath. "Just act like you're here to see me."

Tim glanced behind him to see a man entering the store and his eyes made a bee-line for Laylah, his feet following.

Tim leaned an elbow against the counter and crossed one ankle over the other, turning back to Laylah. "So I was thinking we could go get dinner after you get off work," he said easily.

"A restaurant, take-out, or do you want to whip something up together?" Laylah replied casually.

"Hey," the guy said to Laylah with a cockiness that grated on Tim's nerves.

"I can't talk now, Brian," Laylah's voice was icy. "I have customers."

"But you can talk to this clown about personal stuff?" Brian's eyes narrowed. His hair fell in waves around his face but didn't quite brush the expensive looking navy sweater he was wearing.

Clown? Tim wondered aloud. He was pretty sure that taking abuse from this guy wasn't part of the deal. He shook his head. "Hi," he stuck out a hand. "Tim Gutterson, nice to meet you."

Brian sneered at Tim's outstretched hand like it might eat him alive. "You know guns are dangerous, right?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "I was unaware, thank you. I'll leave it at home tomorrow and just ask the fugitives to comply real nicely." Laylah stifled a giggle.

"Whatever," Brian turned back to Laylah, "Listen, honey-"

Laylah cut him off. "Don't honey me," she said between clenched teeth. Here eyes swept the store and the three people still browsing. "I really can't talk, I have customers."

"I just need you to listen for twenty seconds and then I'll leave," Brian promised, his hands in front of him like he was surrendering. "I think our history deserves that much."

Laylah rolled her eyes. "Tim, time him."

Tim glanced at his watch.

Brian's voice was steady, not rushed. "I just need you to know that I'm sorry, I love you, and I'll do anything to get you back." He nodded. "I'm done." Tim was a little disappointed that he'd finished in just over five seconds.

Laylah took a deep breath. "And I need you to know that our history deserved more than you hitting on my best-friend- my engaged best friend- and I want you to leave me alone." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm done too."

Brian stood there for a moment longer before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"Thank you," Laylah said once he was gone. "That deserves another cookie," she pushed the plate toward him and Tim didn't refuse.

"Is this your idea of making it up to me?" He asked. He wanted to pry, but refrained.

"Oh no," Laylah shook her head. "I'll totally buy you dinner, or make you dinner, whichever you like."

"Make me dinner?" Tim arched an eyebrow.

"What do you like?" Laylah asked. "If you like Italian, my lasagna is out of this world. If you like Mexican I make awesome tacos. If you like Asian, I can throw together a mean stif-fry. If you like down-home cooking I can definitely make the one of the best fried chickens or meat loafs you've ever had, complete with mashed potatoes and mac and cheese."

"Mac and cheese?" Tim asked.

Laylah laughed again. "Out of all of that, the mac and cheese is what you get excited about?"

Tim shrugged. "What can I say, I'm a simple guy." He smiled. "But no, really, tacos sound really good."

"Okay," Laylah nodded and scribbled something before handing him the piece of paper. It was her address. "Be there at six tonight."

Tim smiled. "Yes, ma'am," he said as she handed him his purchase. "See you then."

Fortunately, Laylah had opened the store that day so she got off at four and headed straight for the market then hurried home.

Laylah's apartment wasn't big, but she managed to keep it clean and tidy, mostly because she felt like she couldn't run a successful business if she didn't. The second bedroom of the apartment was sometimes the exception. It was her craft room, and if Laylah was in the middle of a large project, sometimes the chaos got a little out of control.

She wasted no time in washing and chopping the vegetables before mixing the batter for the taco shells. There was a knock on the door just as the ground beef and seasonings were set to simmer.

Tim was standing in her doorway, looking adorable, almost puppy-like. Laylah didn't remember getting that vibe from him before now, and she wondered about the many layers that probably made up Deputy US Marshal Tim Gutterson.

"Come in," she smiled and took a step back, allowing him access to the living room. "Can I take your jacket?"

Tim pulled the item off and handed it to her and Laylah carefully set it on an empty rung of her hall tree. He was still wearing his gun and badge, but Laylah thought maybe he'd come straight from work.

"Wow," Tim said as he looked around.

"Too much?" Laylah asked, suddenly unsure of herself. Her living room was white, gray, and caramel and right now it was completely bedecked in red, aqua, and white Christmas decorations. She had a tree as tall as the room would allow with red, white, and blue lights, and she had lights and decorations in the window. Christmas pillows adorned the couch and the floating shelves had been completely overhauled for the holiday. Her kitchen and bathroom were similarly decorated.

"It's a lot more than I would do," Tim said. "But it looks really nice- like a magazine or something."

"Thank you," Laylah felt a little better.

"It smells really good in here," Tim said with a smile.

"Thanks, come on in," Laylah led the way to the kitchen. "It's almost ready, could you give the ground beef a stir?"

Laylah was impressed that Tim washed his hands first, then he took up the wooden spoon and expertly stirred the sizzling pan. Laylah tested the griddle then poured a generous amount of batter on it, spreading it until it was thin.

"You make your shells?" Tim sounded impressed.

"I didn't even know you could buy them until I was out of high school," Laylah admitted. "I thought everyone made tacos this way."

Tim laughed. "Cool," he nodded. "Can't wait to try them."

They worked in silence for a moment before Laylah could think of anything to say. "Do you have your tree up yet?"

"I don't have a tree," he said casually.

"Oh," Laylah shrugged. "You get a real one?"

"No," Tim shook his head.

Laylah stopped and turned toward him. "You mean you don't put up a tree? Ever?" Tim shook his head. She looked at him critically. "You don't strike me as a Scrooge."

"I'm not," Tim shook his head, "I just don't get into to the holidays like most people. It's just me and it seems like a lot of work for just me."

"I never really thought about how much work it is," Laylah admitted. "I love it."

"You'd probably do all this even if no one came over at all, wouldn't you?" Tim asked with a laugh.

"Guilty," Laylah admitted. "So what do you do for the holidays?"

"Nothing, really," Tim said with a shrug and Laylah turned to him, horrified.

"Nothing?" He shook his head. "You don't even buy presents for anyone?"

"Other than the office there really isn't anyone to buy for," Tim said.

Laylah quickly realized he wasn't a Scrooge, he was just lonely. A slow smile crept across her face as an idea came to the surface of her mind.

"Uh oh," Tim looked at her cautiously. "I don't know if I like that look."

"I have a great idea," Laylah grinned. "This dinner is NOT how I'm going to make your favor up to you."

"It's not?" Tim asked. "'Cuz it smells amazing and I'd say we're even after this."

"Oh no," Laylah shook her head. "We're just getting started." She took the shell off the griddle and started another one. "We're going to give you twelve days of Christmas."

"What?" Tim asked. He didn't sound too excited about it. "What does that look like?" He asked cautiously.

"I don't know completely," Laylah admitted. "But I will. And it starts tonight right after dinner." She suddenly felt like she was ten years old again, and to her, that's what the holidays were supposed to make someone feel like


	3. Chapter 3

On the First Day of Christmas

Once they'd cleaned up after dinner, they shrugged into their coats and headed outside.

"Follow me," Laylah said, pointing to her compact Fiat.

"Follow you?" Tim asked. "Where?"

"It's a surprise," Laylah shook her head.

"And I'm following you because...?" He seemed suspicious.

"Because we're going from the surprise to your place and if we ride together you'd either have to bring me back here or I'd have to bring you back for your truck."

Tim finally opened the door to his truck. "Alright," he said. "But if I get a bad feeling, I'm just gonna keep driving."

Laylah shook her head. "Have you always been this suspicious?" She asked.

Tim cocked his head to the side and pretended to think about it. "Yeah," he said.

"Well don't worry," Laylah said. "My twelve days of Christmas plan doesn't involve kidnapping."

Tim's smile from across the top of her vehicle made her stomach flip-flop in the most surprisingly delightful way. "So you say," he said before climbing into the truck.

Laylah laughed to herself as she got in her car and pulled out of the parking space. Tim was right behind her. They managed to get to the Christmas tree lot about half an hour before they closed.

"Seriously?" Tim asked as they pulled themselves out of their vehicles.

"Seriously," Laylah nodded. "Oh, are you prepared to pay for a Christmas tree? I didn't think about the money."

Tim chuckled. "The money's not a problem, the tree might be."

"Oh, come on," Laylah gently pushed him toward the entrance. "Since it's after dark, we maybe better off to pick one that's already been cut down, but it's more fun to cut it yourself."

"You think cutting down trees is fun?" Tim asked, giving her a sideways glance. "I have a tree in my backyard that isn't looking so good, why don't you come over some time and take care of it for me."

Laylah laughed. "Sorry," she said, "Christmas trees are the only trees I know how to cut down. They're pretty basic."

They wandered through several well-lit aisles, taking in the different kinds of trees available.

"How big do you want your tree to be?" Laylah asked.

Tim shrugged. "A foot and a half, maybe?"

"Ha ha," Laylah rolled her eyes. "Ooh, I like the needles on this one," she brushed her hand through a nearby branch." It was probably about six feet tall and looked to be pretty full all the way around.

"Sure," Tim nodded. "Why not?"

Laylah turned to him. "Are you trying to not have any fun?" She asked.

"Who says I'm not having any fun?" He asked. "I don't know the first thing about picking out a Christmas tree so i'm just goin' with the flow."

Laylah tried to study his face in the lamplight but she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Finally, she decided to take him at face value. "Okay," Laylah pulled the tree toward her and grabbed the trunk toward the top. "Grab that end," she commanded and Tim obliged. Between the two of them, they got the tree to the gift shop.

They spent about ten minutes in the shop, perusing ornaments, decorations, and tree stands and left with one of each. An employee had wrapped the tree in netting and Tim tossed it easily in the back of his truck.

"So we're going to my house?" He asked.

Laylah nodded. "But if I get a bad feeling, I'm just going to keep on driving," she said with more than a little sass.

"Funny," Tim said before he led the way.

Laylah wasn't surprised that his house wasn't big and neither was his yard. It wasn't right up against his neighbors, but they weren't far enough away to be considered "down the road." The yard was clean and so was the house.

As they stepped inside, pulling the tree with them, Laylah realized just how clean. She glanced around, surprised.

"How long have you lived here?" She asked.

"A little over two years," Tim admitted as they set the tree down in his sparse living room. There weren't any pictures on the walls, no pictures or nicknacks on the coffee or end tables, and the TV looked neglected but very clean. Very clean. OCD was Laylah's first thought.

"Where do you want your tree?" Laylah looked around.

"Where do you think it would look the best?" Tim asked, his eyes scanning the room critically.

"Probably over by the window," Laylah pointed.

Tim shrugged. "Okay," he said and they moved the arm chair a little to put the tree stand down.

Then the real fun began and they wrestled the tree into the stand and spent almost twenty minutes making sure it wasn't tilted, crooked, and that it's best side was facing the room.

"Now what?" Tim asked.

"Sugar water," Laylah told him and headed into the kitchen. "Do you have a pitcher?"

"Yes, ma'am," he opened a lower cabinet and produced a plastic pitcher that was probably used for iced tea.

"Thank you," Laylah took the item and turned to the sink. "Do you have any sugar?"

He pulled a small container from a cabinet and handed it over. Laylah added a generous amount, making a mental note to get him some more, before heading back into the living room and filling the tree stand.

"I don't have any lights or decorations or anything," Tim said as Laylah stood back up. "Just what we bought tonight."

"I assumed," she said with a laugh. "Don't worry, we'll get some."

"Day two?" He arched an eyebrow.

Laylah shrugged. "Maybe," she said. "But it's getting late, I'd better go."

"Well thank you," Tim said as he followed her to the door. "For dinner and for picking out my tree."

Laylah nodded. "You're welcome," she said with a smile. "See you Saturday."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and Laylah found herself remembering the adorable way one side of his mouth curled up when he said it.

She turned back toward him. "Oh, and Merry Christmas," she said with a grin.


	4. Chapter 4

On the Second Day of Christmas

Tim worked hard to keep his good mood to himself the next day, after all

he had a reputation to protect and he didn't want Raylan or Rachel asking questions. Besides, from the moment he'd bumped into Laylah, he'd known she was too good for him so there was no use even thinking about starting something.

He wasn't sure where this twelve days of Christmas would take them, but he'd work hard to keep their relationship on the platonic side of the line. He had several friends that were women, Rachel included, so he'd just add Laylah to that list. Otherwise, the only other list that he had to add her too was the mistakes list, and she wasn't the kind of girl to end up on that list.

Besides, he had his own work and half of Raylan's to do so there was plenty to keep him busy. He only allowed himself half a smile when his phone vibrated and he saw Laylah's text.

Meet me at the shop at 4 pm tomorrow.

"What?" Rachel asked as he put his phone away. Raylan was away from the office so she had a clear view of him across the cowboy's desk.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked. He had been leaning back in his chair but now he pulled himself forward and focused on his computer screen.

"Don't play dumb with me," one side of Rachel's mouth lifted in a half smile. "I saw that." She leaned toward him. "Who is she?"

"A friend," Tim played it off. He didn't think Rachel was convinced. He wasn't sure he was either.

Marshals didn't always keep banker's hours, but they were lucky enough to take weekends off as long as they weren't on a hot case that took every waking moment of their lives. Tim's idea of sleeping in was usually six-thirty four in the morning and Saturday, December 3rd was no different. He went for a run before a quick breakfast of peanut butter toast and coffee, more of the latter than the former, then took a shower.

If he wasn't on a case, he usually took several hours on Saturdays to clean his house from top to bottom even though he spot cleaned and picked up after himself throughout the week so he spent a good portion of the rest of the morning cleaning each room in his house. There were only five rooms so he was done before noon.

Tim ended up going in to work for a few hours just to kill time, and headed over to the shop so that he arrived promptly at four in the afternoon. The shop was still open and there were several customers, but Laylah waved him toward the counter with a smile. He weaved his way through the store to her. Her friend Ronnie was behind the counter too.

"Hi," Laylah said when he reached her. "It's really crazy today so I told Ronnie I'd stay and help, but we can go ahead and get started too."

"On what?" Tim asked suspiciously.

"Your ornaments," Laylah swept her arm above the work station behind the counter. It was covered in every kind of paper, scissors, glue, glitter, popsicle stick, and Christmas bulb a person could think of. "Come on!" Laylah motioned for him to head around to the other side of the counter.

"Hello, ma'am," he said to Ronnie as he passed her.

"Hi…" she began, then stopped. "I'm sorry, I don't know if I'm supposed to call you officer, marshal, or deputy Gutterson."

"Tim's fine," he said, "but it would be deputy."

"I always wondered," Ronnie said before returning her attention to the store, almost blatantly ignoring them.

"How are you today?" Laylah asked. Today she was wearing a red sweater that made her olive skin tone glow in the most delightful way. Her cheeks were rosy but they managed to not be splotchy.

"I was fine," Tim took a good look at the workstation, "but I don't know what you expect me to do with all this."

Laylah laughed. "I'll help you," she said. "Once you get started I think you'll find it to be easier than it looks."

"Somehow I doubt that," Tim said.

"Well, then let's start with something easy," Laylah said, "What do you like?"

There was too much on the table for Tim to even begin to know what to do, so he finally resorted to picking up a red bulb. "Let's start with this."

Laylah smiled. "Okay," she said. "What would you like to do with it?"

"Um," Tim studied the bulb. "What can I do with it?"

"Well, you can paint it, you can glitter it, you can put beads on it, you can glue cut-outs on it, whatever you want," Laylah picked up a green bulb. "I'll do this one."

"Okay," Tim looked at the paint. "What color should I use?" he asked.

"That depends on whether you want your design to stand out or be subtle," Laylah said. "If you want it to stand out, use a contrasting color or a gold or silver. If you want it to be subtle, use a darker red."

Tim dipped a thin paintbrush in the crimson paint and hesitated putting the paint to the bulb but Laylah wasted no time in using the glue to begin a pattern on the green bulb. Tim watched her for a moment as she created a swirl on the bulb and then covered it with a mountain of bright green glitter. She turned it over and tapped the bulb to get rid of the extra glitter and then grabbed the glue again. Tim sighed and focused on his own ornament.

In between customers, Ronnie began gluing popsicle sticks together, creating the most complicated snowflake Tim had ever seen. When he thought of popsicle sticks, he thought of kindergarten. Ronnie's creation looked like the ornaments people pay really good money for.

"Done," Tim said. He'd finished his before Laylah, but he'd only painted one thing on it.

"A gun?" she asked. "Really?"

"At least you can tell what it is," Tim said. Painting a gun on a small round object had been harder than he'd thought, especially when adding the black accents to really make it look like a gun.

Laylah rolled her eyes. "What now?" she motioned to the supplies.

"Well," Tim picked up a gold bulb. "I definitely want three or four like this one," he said before dipping a fresh paintbrush in the green paint.

"How long have you been a Marshal?" Laylah asked, her ornament becoming classier by the moment.

"Almost two years," Tim answered as he concentrated on the barrel of a rifle. "How long have you had the store?"

"A little over a year," Laylah answered. "I would've guessed you'd been in law enforcement longer than that. What'd you do before that?"

"I was in the army," Tim answered.

"Ah," Laylah nodded.

"What?" Tim asked.

"Nothing," Laylah continued applying enough glitter to cover all of Lexington on one bulb.

"No," Tim turned to her. "You said 'ah,' like you meant something. What was it?"

"Well, it just explains the 'yes, ma'am,' and 'no, ma'am," she said. "That's all." She smiled. "My sister has been in the national guard for almost twelve years now, full-time for nine, and before she came home from basic she didn't address people like that."

"And after basic she did," Tim finished for her. Laylah nodded. "Has she been deployed?" he asked.

Laylah nodded. "She and her husband both," she said. "She was in Afghanistan two years ago and he's been to Afghanistan and Iraq." She arranged the extra glitter into a pile to use again. "Were you deployed?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Afghanistan."

She didn't pry and he was grateful. She didn't thank him for his service either, which always made him uncomfortable. "Well, I'm glad you're back," she said simply.

"Me too," he answered truthfully. Then he chuckled to himself.

"What?" Laylah glanced sideways at him.

"Nothing," Tim shook his head.

"No, no, no," Laylah shook a finger at him. "You wouldn't let mine go. Spill it."

He smiled. "I just can't picture any sister of yours in the army," he said.

Laylah laughed. "She's a whole lot tougher than me," she said. "Sure, she likes to shop for shoes and go get her nails done sometimes, but she rappels out of helicopters for fun. If we didn't look almost exactly alike, I'd suspect that at least one of us was adopted."

"Because you do this for fun," Tim held up the ornament he was still working on.

"Exactly," Laylah smiled. "Wanna know something that makes it all even funnier?"

"Sure," Tim continued painting.

"My brother is teaching astrophysics at Alabama University," she said.

"Really?" Tim arched an eyebrow.

"Mhmm," Laylah said. "She's the tough one and he's the smart one," she said.

"And you're the creative one," Tim finished. When he turned to look at Laylah, she was smiling. "What?" he asked.

"I've never thought of it like that," Laylah admitted. "Thank you."

Tim desperately wanted to ask how she usually thought of it, but he felt that the answer might pull him a little too close to the romantic side of the relationship line so he just nodded and held out his ornament. "What do you think?"

"I think you're a little too familiar with guns if you can put that much detail into one on an ornament," Laylah said. "But it looks good."

Tim grinned and picked up a green bulb to start again. Laylah finished her bulb and hung it up on a wire strung over the table to dry before picking up some paper. She started cutting with quick, sure snips and before Tim knew it, a 3D snowflake was hanging next to the finished ornaments. Several more joined it. Tim thought about trying to make a popsicle stick Glock but he had visions of the outcome looking like a third grader had made it so he dismissed the idea. He started making complicated paper airplanes with the Christmas themed paper instead. He'd figure out how to get hooks in them.

Laylah and Ronnie made a couple more glittered bulbs before the store closed at seven and Tim realized they'd managed to make almost two dozen ornaments in all. "Wow," he said as he looked over their handy-work. "Now what?"

"Now we go get some dinner before we get some lights and decorate the tree," Laylah turned to Ronnie. "You and Brandon wanna join us?"

"We'd love to," Ronnie said, "but Brandon's mom is in town already and we promised her a fun-filled evening of Scrabble." She smiled. "You two have fun."

So they packed up the ornaments and headed outside. "Are you starving now?" Tim asked.

"I could eat, but I'm not going to faint or anything," Laylah said. "Why?"

"I was just thinking that we could go ahead and go shopping and then just have pizza at my place," Tim answered. "Save more time for decorating."

"Sounds good," Laylah said with a smile. "You wanna drive or you want me to?" she asked. "We can come back for the other vehicle before we go to your house."

"I'll drive," Tim led the way.

They spent an hour at Target picking out lights, candy canes, and a few other odds and ends. It wasn't until he was paying for all of his new treasures that he thought about how much the ornaments they'd made had cost Laylah. They used a lot of supplies just to decorate his tree and he didn't feel right about not paying her for them. He wasn't sure how to go about it so he thought about it on the way home.

They unloaded the ornaments, then Laylah brought in an air popcorn popper and a can of spray silicone.

Tim groaned. "Are we stringin' popcorn?"

Laylah laughed. "While we watch Miracle on Thirty-fourth street," she said, waving the DVD in his face. Tim rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, don't be like that, it'll be fun."

Tim had to admit that it was more fun than he'd thought it would be but he thought maybe it had something to do with the company, not the activity. It didn't take Laylah very long to pop two enormous bowls of popcorn before she had him help her string a strand of thread around the tree to determine how long it needed to be. She threaded a needle at each end of the string while Tim popped in the movie.

They got the entire strand covered in popcorn, ate almost an entire pizza, and put all of the ornaments and candy canes on the tree. They finished the movie before they were done, but The Rock was on TV and Laylah didn't complain about it playing in the background and with it on, Tim felt his man card return to his wallet.

Once they were done, they stepped back to observe their handy work. "Okay," Tim said. "I admit it, it looks good."

"It's unique," Laylah said, pointing to the gun ornaments and the airplanes. "But I like it."

"And it really does brighten up the place," Tim admitted as well. "Thank you." He didn't usually try to sugarcoat things so he decided to just be direct about the ornaments. "I didn't expect you to do all this," he said. "How much do I owe you for the supplies?"

"Honestly, the supplies are next to nothing because we buy in bulk," Laylah answered. "Consider it a gift."

"But I know that Ronnie could have gotten thirty bucks out of that one alone," he pointed to the popsicle snowflake, "if she hadn't given it to me."

"We make almost every gift we give," Laylah told him. "Don't worry about it," she said as she shrugged into her burgundy coat. He was sure she'd made the navy scarf and gloves. "Merry Christmas," she said warmly before she was gone.

Suddenly, the house felt empty, tree or no tree, and it took three glasses of bourbon and a shower to make him feel even remotely better.


	5. Chapter 5

On the Third Day of Christmas

Laylah didn't contact Tim on Sunday, but at promptly eight on Monday morning, she pulled out her phone.

Be at the shop at seven, she texted. That was simple enough. If only her life were that simple, she thought.

Tim arrived promptly at seven, just as she was locking the door. "I close on Mondays," Laylah explained. "I had fried chicken delivered, I hope you haven't eaten."

"I haven't," Tim shook his head. "So what am I in for tonight?"

Laylah led the way toward the back of the store. "We're making Christmas cards," she said.

"Why?" Tim asked.

"Don't you have anyone to send a Christmas card to?" she asked.

Tim shrugged. "You know my buddies would never let me live it down if I sent even one of them a handmade Christmas card, right?" He thought about it. "Maybe my Aunt Becky," he said finally. "And I have a friend in DC who usually sends me a card. Maybe Art and his wife."

"So three," Laylah nodded. "And look what I found," she handed him the handgun stamp. It was a three-inch stamp so it was a good size with a lot of detail. She thought Tim would like it.

"So I can use this on the Christmas cards?" he asked, sounding a little more interested.

Laylah sighed. "If you must," she said with a sigh. "But I also have Christmas stickers, stamps, emboss patterns, and hole punches so maybe not just the gun." She motioned to their dinner. "Should we eat while it's hot?"

"Sure," Tim agreed and they sat down on the stools behind the counter and divvied up the sides before digging into the chicken.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but before too long, Laylah was searching for something to talk about. "So you know about my siblings, do you have any?"

"No, ma'am," Tim said. "It was just me and Max, my dog, grownin' up," he said.

"Where'd you grow up?" Laylah asked.

"Tennessee," he answered vaguely. "You?"

"Right here," Laylah admitted. "Did you go straight into the Marshal Service from the Army or did you do anything else in between?"

Tim shook his head. "I tried civilian life for about a month, but honestly it didn't feel right. I submitted my application to Glynco and was accepted a few months later."

"What's Glynco?" Laylah asked before taking a sip of her lemonade.

"Marshal training," Tim answered. "Not as intense as Ranger school, but more intense than basic training."

"You're a Ranger?" Laylah asked.

"Hooh-ah, ma'am," was his reply.

After their simple meal, they turned to the work station. "Your cards can all be exactly the same, similar, or completely different, it's up to you."

"I think I'll put the gun on all of them," Tim said. "I just don't know what to say on the inside."

Laylah thought about it for a minute. "How about, 'Shoot, have a Merry Christmas.'?"

Tim actually laughed. "I like that," he said. "But my handwriting isn't the best."

"That's alright," Laylah said. "I'll write that as long as you sign them."

While they worked on her card, Laylah learned that Tim's friend, Tasha, had been in military intelligence before starting her career with the FBI. She'd been in DC for almost four years. Tim decided on centering the gun in the middle of her card and then creating a holly and ivy border around it. He was working on coloring in the gun while Laylah was creating leaves and berries they'd glue around the outside.

"You think she'd like some glitter?" Laylah asked, shaking the bottle of silver glitter at him.

Tim made a face. "She might, but I probably wouldn't."

"We could put just a little bit of red glitter on each of the berries," Laylah suggested. "It will make it a lot more Christmassy..."

Tim sighed. "Alright, but just a little."

Laylah managed to convince Tim to use white and blue glitter on the snowflakes on his Aunt Becky's card. They used snowflake punches to make small little flakes they scattered all around the gun, even overlapping a few of them.

She learned that Art was Tim's boss while they made his card. They lined the bottom of the card with red, green, and gold presents and the top with Christmas bulbs in the same colors. He refused to use any glitter on that one.

"I guess I could make a card for Rachel," Tim said while they glued the last of the bows to the presents. "I drew her name in the gift exchange," he said.

"What's she like?" Laylah asked to get a feeling for what to put on the card.

"Professional," Tim answered. "She's smart and cool under pressure." He said that like he had firsthand knowledge of just how cool under pressure Rachel could be and for the first time, Laylah really thought about his job. She'd kind of convinced herself that he just chased bad guys down on foot in broad daylight, but she'd known that wasn't really true.

"What about Christmas candy?" Laylah got back to the task at hand. She'd thought about reindeer, but with the gun on the front she was afraid it would look more like a hunting card than a Christmas card.

"Sure," Tim said. So they created paper candy canes and peppermints out of red, white, and green paper and glued them around the outside of the card.

True to her word, Laylah inscribed each one and Tim signed them. He hadn't been exaggerating. Laylah had watched him sign the cards, but she couldn't read his name at all. He had all the necessary addresses in the contacts section of his phone so Laylah used her calligraphy pen to write each name on an envelope and then her nicest script to add the addresses and Tim's return address. Of course, she had stamps. There was a mailbox down the street, and almost too suddenly, they were standing at their vehicles in the parking lot, done for the evening.

"You know I'm going to get phone calls about this," Tim said carefully holding the card he'd made for Rachel. "My Aunt Becky will probably think I sent her a card because I'm dying or something."

Laylah rolled her eyes. "They'll all probably think it was really sweet of you to send cards," she said. "And a little Christmas never killed anyone," she said.

"Is there such a thing as too much Christmas," Tim said dramatically.

"Nope," Laylah shook her head.

Tim laughed. "What's next?"

Laylah grinned. "It's a surprise," she said. "Good night, Tim. Merry Christmas." She got in her car.


	6. Chapter 6

On the Fourth day of Christmas

Tim didn't hear from Laylah on Tuesday, but on Wednesday, the seventh, she texted him promptly at eight a.m.

Meet at your house at seven thirty. I'm bringing supper, the text read.

Tim kept his reply short, Okay. Then he focused on the mug shots on his computer screen, pushing Laylah's distracting image from his mind while he worked. He didn't know what she had planned, but he was looking forward to seven-thirty.

His mood was diminished slightly when Art stopped by his desk. "Imagine my surprise," his boss drawled, "when yesterday evening I get home and Leslie hands me a Christmas card with a nine millimeter stamped on it." Tim rolled his eyes, but Art continued. "Now, if I didn't have to read every report in this office, I wouldn't have been able to read the signature on that card, but I'll turn in my badge if it wasn't from you."

"What's your point?" Tim asked. He assessed the room without looking around and knew that at least four people were listening, Rachel and Raylan included.

"Well, considering that I didn't get a card from you last year, or the year before," Art might have had a laugh behind his eyes, but with Art sometimes it was hard to tell, "I was just wondering what's up? Especially with a card that nice, handmade and everything."

"Nothing's up," Tim said. "I just have a friend who makes Christmas cards is all."

"A friend?" Art asked.

"Yeah," Tim replied.

Art studied him a moment longer and Tim schooled his features. "Alright," he said. "Well, it's real nice, thank you." He went back to his office, but even with his back turned, Tim could tell Art was grinning.

He rolled his eyes again and turned back toward his computer screen, but felt several pairs of eyes on him. He turned to see Raylan and Rachel staring at him. "What?" He asked.

"Christmas cards?" Raylan asked. "A friend?"

"Yes," Tim said. "And yes."

"Just a friend?" Raylan asked.

"Yes," Tim said. "Now can we get back to work?"

Raylan turned and exchanged a glance with Rachel. She shrugged, which said 'we'll talk later.' "Sure," Raylan turned back to Tim. "We'll get back to work." But Tim knew they weren't going to drop it for good. He sighed.

Laylah arrived at seven-twenty-seven and Tim hurried down the walk to take the big box she was carrying. He was surprised by how heavy it was.

"Thank you," Laylah said as he led the way inside. "You hungry?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Good," Laylah pointed him toward the kitchen and he set the box on the table. She took off her coat, scarf, and gloves before opening the box and pulling all sorts of things out.

First was a bagged salad, then a loaf of Italian bread. Several small bags of candy followed, then several plastic containers before she finally pulled out a casserole dish of what Tim hoped was Lasagna. He was right.

They reheated slices of lasagna in the microwave and Laylah added salads and bread to each plate once they were done. Tim had beer, tea, Aleight, and water in the fridge and he offered Laylah her choice. She accepted a ginger ale and Tim opened himself a beer, his first and only since it was a weeknight.

"How was work?" Tim asked as they sat down.

"Busy," Laylah nodded. "I closed fifteen minutes late because I had two customers in the store. Each of them spent over sixty dollars."

"Nice," Tim nodded after his second bite of lasagna. "This is delicious, by the way."

Laylah smiled and her cheeks pinked up. "Thank you," she said. "How was your day?"

"Busy, lots of paperwork," Tim nodded. "I did manage to get to the shooting range today which is always fun," he admitted.

"I wouldn't know," Laylah said.

Tim sat back in his chair and studied her. "You mean you grew up in Kentucky and you don't shoot?"

"Not once," Laylah shook her head. "They scare me."

"They scare you because you don't know how to use them," Tim explained. He got an idea. "Maybe after all this twelve days of Christmas stuff, I'll take you to the shooting range, teach you a thing or two."

Laylah looked like she was considering it. "Okay," she finally said. "If you can make Christmas cards, I can endure a little time at the shooting range."

"Alright," Tim leaned back over his plate. "What are we doing tonight?" he asked.

"You'll see after dinner," Laylah said with a smile.

It didn't take them long to do up the dishes and then Laylah pulled something else out of the box. It was flat, maybe the bottom of a cardboard box, and covered in aluminum foil. Laylah set it in the middle of the table between them. Then she opened one of the plastic containers and the smell of ginger cookies overtook the room. One glance inside the container and Tim had his answer.

"We're making a gingerbread house?" he asked, looking at the pieces of gingerbread already cut in house shapes.

"Mhmm," Laylah said as she carefully pulled the pieces from the container one by one. "I have a stencil set," she admitted. "It helps to bake them at least a day in advance." Then she opened the other container and Tim saw four frosting bags full of frosting, each with a different tip. He'd already seen enough candy to make a diabetic go into sugar shock just looking at it. She handed him one of the bags of frosting. "Just put a little on the base," she pointed to the foil covered thing. "We'll spread it out and make it look like snow."

Tim gingerly took the frosting bag and, after a moment's hesitation, he began piping a line of frosting down the middle of the foil square. He piped two more, one on either side of it, and began spreading it around with some sort of spreader tool that Laylah handed him. Then she made him spread a thin line of frosting down each edge of the front of the house. It was like caulking only it smelled better.

They carefully put the sides of the house against the front, smashing the frosting firmly between them and then set the whole thing in the "snow". Miraculously, it held. Once they put the back on, they added the roof, which Tim was nervous about, but Laylah assured him their house wasn't going to come crashing down on them and it didn't.

While they were working, Laylah's phone buzzed a cute typewriter sound and Tim assumed she'd received a text. She glanced at her phone and he knew he was right. She rolled her eyes and set the phone down without replying.

"I've had this same phone number since I got my first cell phone," she said with a sigh. "I don't want to change it, but he's tempting me."

Tim went on alert. "Brian?" Laylah nodded. "Is he stalking you?"

"No, nothing like that," she shook her head. "He actually left me completely alone until about two weeks ago, now he's Facebook messaging me, texting me, calling me, just being an overall nuisance."

"Has he been to your place?" Tim asked cautiously.

Again, Laylah shook her head before getting back to making frosting shutters around the windows. "And he hasn't been to the shop since that day last week." She shrugged. "I think he's even more embarrassed to see Ronnie than he is me."

"Because he asked her to cheat," Tim finished.

Laylah smiled sadly. "You have a good memory," she said. "I guess it probably makes you good at your job."

"It helps," he said.

Tim's steady hands helped him put peppermint shingles on the roof while Laylah used the spreader thingy to create a sidewalk at the front door. It was more of an "s" shaped path, really. She lined it with miniature candy canes. They lined the edge of the roof and each window with small cinnamon dots before completely covering the sides of the house in gumdrops and the front and back in strands of licorice. A marshmallow snowman made their house complete.

"I guess it looks good enough to eat," Tim said with a chuckle.

"That's the point," Laylah smiled. "Now for the picture," she pulled out her phone. "Lean in."

"We really have to take a picture with this thing?" Tim asked.

"Yes," Laylah nodded and waited for Tim to move into the frame as she held her cell phone out in front of them.

With a sigh, Tim leaned in, keeping the gingerbread house between them. He forced a smile so that they could get it over with.

"Done," Laylah said after a moment and they pulled away from each other. Laylah immediately began cleaning up the left over candy. "You want any of this?"

Tim pointed to the gingerbread house. "I think I have plenty," he said with a laugh.

Laylah laughed too before dishing up several portions of the lasagna for him to keep. "Here," she said.

Tim took it gratefully. "Thank you," he said before helping her pack everything back in the box, "for dinner and everything."

"You're welcome," she said as she headed to the door. When she reached it, she turned back to him. "Goodnight," she said. "Merry Christmas."


	7. Chapter 7

On the Fifth Day of Christmas

On Thursday, Laylah had the good sense to text Tim and ask if he was claustrophobic. When the answer was no, she was almost giddy as she replied with the instructions for the following night, including that Ronnie and Brandon were joining them.

Friday, December 9th was definitely colder than it had been the week before. Laylah was glad she had worn a warm sweater and she was in love with the navy cashmere blend scarf and gloves she'd made last year. She'd remembered to tell Tim to dress warmly and just as she was locking up the shop, he arrived at the door, gloves in hand.

"Hi," she said as she let him in, locking the door behind him. She turned the lights to the front of the store off and led the way toward the counter. "We're just waiting on Brandon, Ronnie's fiancé. He's in the middle of his fellowship at Saint Joseph and sometimes he ends up working late, but he should be here in ten or fifteen minutes."

Ronnie was still at the sewing machine, using every available second to finish the baby quilt she was working on. Laylah took a couple of minutes to make sure that everything was ready to go for the morning, the tea kettle, the bags and tissue paper. Tim leaned against the counter and Laylah was glad that he didn't look uncomfortable while they were waiting. She hoped he wouldn't be uncomfortable for the rest of the evening too.

"So, where are we going?" Tim asked.

"It's a surprise," Laylah answered.

"I knew you were going to say that," Tim said.

"But before your suspicious nature takes over," Laylah laughed. "We are going out of town, but we're not kidnapping you."

Tim laughed. "Okay," he said. "Where are we going?"

"Louisville," Laylah answered. "But that's all I can tell you."

Brandon arrived ten minutes later, bleary-eyed but in a good mood. He greeted everyone and shook Tim's hand before they headed out the door.

"Who's driving?" Laylah asked as they headed toward the four vehicles in the small parking lot."

"I'll be asleep in ten minutes," Brandon warned.

"I don't mind driving," Tim said, "but we can't all fit in my truck and I don't know where we're going."

Laylah tossed him her keys and headed toward her vehicle. She didn't mind driving either, but if someone else volunteered, she was more than willing to let them. "I'll direct you once we get close," she said. They piled in her Fiat.

"How was work?" Ronnie asked Brandon. They were holding hands in the back seat. Laylah thought they were adorable together, but it put a tiny little ache in her heart.

"Two surgeries," Brandon replied, "eleven hours all together." He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. "How was your day?" He asked.

"Busy," Ronnie said. "It's a good thing we love Christmas or we'd be wishing it was over already."

Laylah laughed. "I know, but the fact that we're busy means the store is doing business, so I love it." She turned to Tim. "How was your day?" She asked as they headed to the freeway.

Tim shrugged. "Nothing to talk about," he said before glancing in the rear view mirror for the fifth time. He sighed and pulled out his phone. He put it up to his ear and waited for the other person to answer.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked. He paused while the other person answered him. "Oh, you two are huntin' a fugitive in Louisville?" He sounded sarcastic. "Tonight?" He paused again. "Who are you lookin' for?" He rolled his eyes and swore. Laylah hadn't heard him swear before. "Raylan, cut the-" he swore again. "What are you really doin'?" He listened longer this time, then he sighed. "You know it's not that interesting," he said. "Yes, just friends." Laylah put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Tim sighed. "I do have friends, you know." Tim shook his head and held the phone out to Laylah. "He wants to talk to you," he said.

Laylah took the phone with uncertain fingers and slowly held it up to her ear. "Hello?" She asked.

"Hi," a smooth southern drawl met her ears, "this is Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens, would you be willing to speak to the nature of your relationship with Deputy Gutterson?"

"Why do you want to know?" Laylah asked.

"Honestly?" Deputy Givens asked. "Because the office pool has two-hundred dollars for the first person to find out who you are and what your relationship is." He chuckled. "Now we're not supposed to run license plates, but Rachel and I aren't above breaking the rules when two-hundred dollars is involved. But if you'd just tell us your name, you'd save us all a lot of trouble."

Laylah laughed. "Really?" She asked. "Do you always have an office pool going?"

"More or less," Deputy Givens said. "It's not always this interesting though, but it's not usually about Tim, he keeps his nose pretty clean."

"Hold on," Laylah tilted the phone away from her mouth. "He wants me to tell him who I am, should I tell him?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "You might as well," he said. "They'll just run your plates if you don't."

Laylah heard Deputy Givens chuckle on the other end. "Okay," she said. "My name is Laylah Rawlings, Tim and I are just friends, we're going to Louisville to see the Christmas lights."

"In the caverns?" Deputy Givens asked.

"Yup," Laylah answered.

"My ex-wife wanted me to take her to see those, but I never got around to it," he said.

"Well, if you don't quit following us, you're going to see them tonight," Laylah said with a laugh.

Deputy Givens laughed to. "Alright," he said. "You all have a good night."

"You too," Laylah said before hanging up the phone and handing it back to Tim. "An office pool?"

"Hey," Tim laughed. "I've made a lot of money at that, don't knock it. Although, it's a lot more fun when it's not about me."

Brandon had been asleep before they got out of Louisville, but Ronnie woke him up just before they started through the caverns. It was incredible and magical, just as Laylah had hoped it would be. Each cave was lit up with thousands of lights. Christmas trees, candy canes, polar bears, penguins, swans, toys, Santa, the works. The entire tour took about thirty minutes and Laylah allowed herself to ooh and awe like a kid. She couldn't have wiped the silly grin off her face if she'd tried to.

They stopped at a burger joint on the way home, but everyone was tired so they didn't dally much. The conversation flowed about as easily as it can when people are getting to know one another, and Laylah was glad that Tim seemed pretty at ease. Before the night was over, she began wondering if she'd lied to Deputy Givens. Were she and Tim just friends?


	8. Chapter 8

On the Sixth Day of Christmas

Tim found himself eagerly awaiting Laylah's text on Saturday, and in the early afternoon, his phone buzzed. He felt a smile creep itself across his face as he read.

My apartment tomorrow morning at 9:30. Come hungry.

Tim slipped his phone back in his pocket and resumed dusting the ceiling fan. He didn't know what Laylah was going to feed him, but he felt his mouth watering already.

So Sunday, December eleventh, Tim got up even earlier than usual. He told himself he just couldn't sleep, but he felt the anticipation of seeing Laylah again growing steadily as he got ready. He stared himself down in the mirror, silently ordering himself to keep things even.

"She's too good for you," he muttered under his breath while he wiped off the bits of shaving cream left on his face. He believed himself.

But he felt the good mood returning as he pulled into a parking space at her apartment building and headed inside and up the stairs. He knocked on Laylah's door and a moment later, she answered. She was wearing jeans and a burgundy sweater with a green Christmas apron tied around her neck and back. Her dark hair, was pinned up loosely on her head.

"Hi," she said brightly. "Come on in."

Before she could ask to take his coat, Tim hung it up on the hall tree for her. "Wow, it smells great in here," he said.

Laylah's smile brightened. "Thanks, it's our traditional Christmas breakfast." She led the way into the kitchen.

Laylah's small kitchen table had been transformed. A crisp, white table cloth was centered on it, and two place settings of fine, white china were across from each other. The napkins were folded neatly beside the plate and the silverware was perfectly squared up against the plates. In the center of the table was a small orange and aqua Christmas arrangement.

"I was just setting things on the table," Laylah said.

"Can I help?" Tim asked. He knew he'd feel weird if he just sat down and watched Laylah bring everything to him like a waitress at the IHop.

"Sure," Laylah said and grabbed two serving dishes before handing them to him. He found room on the table and set them down. One was a bowl full of fluffy scrambled eggs, the other a plate full of cinnamon pancakes dripping with cinnamon roll goodness.

He turned and Laylah was almost behind him with a plate of bacon and a hot carafe of something or other. He took both from her and she headed back to the kitchen for more while he set the bacon on the table.

Once they were settled, they began filling their plates. Laylah poured each of them a mimosa and filled mugs with hot chocolate. Tim looked at his plate, not even sure where to start.

"You have this every Christmas?" He asked.

Laylah nodded. "It's the only time we get cinnamon roll pancakes," she said. "We put cinnamon roll filling in the pancakes and then between the pancakes and douse them all in an unhealthy portion of glazed icing."

Tim cut a bite sized piece of his pancakes and popped it into his mouth. "Wow," he said. "That's awesome."

Laylah giggled. "Thank you," she said. "What did you eat at Christmas growing up?" She asked.

Tim shrugged. "Sometimes cereal," he said. He didn't add that sometimes they didn't eat anything because they didn't have anything to eat. "We never really had traditions like this."

"Nothing?" Laylah seemed shocked. "I know you don't celebrate now, but I thought every family had traditions."

Tim shook his head. "We didn't really do anything special throughout the year," he admitted. "Birthdays were any other day, Christmas was pretty bland, sometimes Thanksgiving was downright pathetic."

"That's so sad," Laylah said.

Tim looked up at Laylah and felt his blood pressure rise. The look on her face was full of pity and if there was one thing Tim Gutterson didn't want from anyone, anyone at all, it was pity. No way.

Before he could say anything, Laylah shook herself slightly and her face softened. Tim felt himself relaxing a little. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to pry."

Tim shrugged. "I didn't have to answer," he said. "My childhood wasn't the greatest, but there's nothing anyone can do about it now, so I don't worry about it."

Laylah smiled. "And we're making up for it now," she said.

Tim raised his fork with a grin. "Yes, ma'am," he said before concentrating on clearing his plate.

He managed to clear his plate, but after breakfast, Tim was so stuffed he knew he'd skip lunch. Maybe even supper. When they were done eating, he offered to help Laylah clean up and they stood at the sink, carefully washing and drying delicate dishes while happy Christmas carols played in the background.

They worked without talking for a little while, Laylah humming carols under her breath, when suddenly, she turned to him. "If there was one thing you could do this Christmas, what would it be?"

Wow, no one had ever asked him that, not even when he was little. Tim wracked his brain, trying to think of anything, his arms plunged into the warm, soapy water. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I've never really thought about it."

"Never at all?" Laylah sounded surprised.

Tim shrugged. "Not really," he said. He resumed washing the dishes and a thought came to him before he'd finished washing the first plate. He stopped abruptly and turned to Laylah. "If there was one thing I could do this Christmas, it would be to not go to the office Christmas party alone."

Laylah looked up at him with those big, brown eyes. "Is that an invitation?" She asked.

The way she was looking at him made Tim momentarily forget about the line that he'd sworn he wouldn't cross. "Yes," he said.

Laylah smiled and bounced on her heels with an adorable giggle. "Then I accept," she said. "When is it?"

"This Friday," Tim answered. "I could pick you up at the shop when you close."

Laylah nodded. "Sounds good," she said. "Casual? Dressy?"

"I'd say the dressier side of casual," Tim said.

Laylah nodded. "Got it."

Too soon, they were finished with the clean-up, and part of Tim was trying to think of an excuse to stay while part of him was screaming to escape. "Thank you for breakfast, everything was great," he said, letting his practical side win. As usual.

"Thank you for coming," Laylah followed him to the door.

Tim grabbed his coat and shrugged it on before turning back to her. "Thanks for everything," he said with more feeling than he should have allowed himself.

Laylah smiled at him. "Merry Christmas, Tim," she said.


	9. Chapter 9

On the Seventh Day of Christmas

Laylah spent Sunday afternoon and a little bit of Monday evening making cookie dough and frostings and on Monday morning she texted Tim to meet at her place on Tuesday as soon as he got off work. He confirmed, and he arrived just before five-thirty.

"Sorry," he shrugged his coat off and hung it up. "I got caught up at work."

"No problem," Laylah led the way into the kitchen. She already had several batches baked and cooling so they could go ahead and start with the fun part. The decorating.

"Oh boy," Tim said as he rounded the corner. "Cookies?"

"Yup," Laylah said with a grin. "Selfishly, some of them are for me to take to work, but there's plenty for us to really decorate up for you." Laylah had already spread the decorating supplies on the table so after they both washed their hands, they sat down.

"You know I have no idea what to do with any of this, right?" Tim asked as he looked at the frosting bags, stencils, and various candies.

"It's easy," Laylah said as she picked up a sugar cookie snowman. "Just define the natural lines on each shape." She grabbed the bag of white icing and traced the outer edge of the snowman's head before completing the entire circle. Then she defined the middle section before outlining the bottom.

She held the cookie up for Tim to see. "And then you can just have fun," she grinned before setting the cookie back down. She touched the frosting to it again and created diagonal stripes across the bottom snowball of the snowman. Then she dotted little polka dots all over the middle before creating the face with the help of several different colors.

"You try it," Laylah handed Tim a cookie in the shape of a present with a bow on top and the green frosting.

Tim took the frosting like it might bite him, but he dutifully began outlining the bow. Laylah forced herself to not micromanage his progress and began another cookie of her own. They had half a dozen completed before Tim cleared his throat.

"So, you know I don't have any Christmas traditions," he said as he set a slightly uneven Christmas tree in the plastic storage container with the rest of the finished cookies. "After your amazing breakfast, I assume your family has a bunch of traditions, but what's your favorite?"

Laylah found herself smiling as she worked. "We grew up opening our presents on Christmas eve," she admitted. "I thought everyone did. But before we could open any presents, each of us would select an unopened gift that we would donate to charity in the morning."

"Did you find out what was in them?" Tim asked.

"Nope," Laylah shook her head. "We usually didn't want to know," she admitted. "It was a lot of fun to give things away, but we didn't want to be disappointed either."

"That's cool," Tim said. "Helping like that."

Laylah nodded. "We didn't always have a lot, but we never stopped the tradition. I think it changed the way I think about giving."

"How so?" Tim asked.

"Well, as much as I enjoy getting gifts," Laylah's words made Tim smile, "I actually love giving gifts a whole lot more. I love picking out, or better yet, making the perfect gift."

"I've never really thought about giving gifts," Tim admitted. "We never really had gifts at Christmas or birthdays and so I just don't think about it. I usually forget people's birthdays all together, even my friends."

Laylah smiled. "I always put them in my calendar as soon as I know when one is."

"What do you do for someone's birthday?" Tim asked.

"Balloons and a birthday treat," Laylah said easily enough. "It's my standard, go to birthday celebration."

"Nice," Tim nodded.

Laylah thought of something and leaned her elbow on the table. "So, when's your birthday?"

Tim smiled and raised his eyes from the cookie he was decorating. "If I tell you, I'll wind up with balloons behind my desk and then everyone will give me a hard time."

"But they'll be really cool balloons," Laylah said with a grin. Tim shook his head and Laylah decided to back off, for now. "Okay," she said with a sigh.

"So how's business?" Tim asked.

"Busy," Laylah nodded with a smile. "Christmas is always the busiest time of year."

"Did you always want to be a shop owner?" Tim asked.

"Nope," Laylah shook her head. "When I was really little, I just knew I was going to be a princess when I grew up." Tim chuckled. "And then I was going to be a marine biologist," she smiled. "And then, I was going to spend all of my time rescuing puppies and children."

"So, what happened?" Tim asked. "How'd you get the shop?"

"Well," Laylah sighed. "My senior year of high school, my grandma got really sick and I didn't have a large college fund, by any means, but it all went to hospital and nursing home bills. So I went to work instead of school and decided that if I was going to work retail long-term, it would be for myself and not someone else. My first commission spread the word and Ronnie and I saved up for a down payment on the lease, and finally, we got it. But internet sales are over fifty percent of our business."

They worked with the Christmas carols in the background for a while, when Tim finally looked up at the pile of cookies. "What am I going to do with all these?" He asked.

Laylah laughed. "I don't know," she admitted. "Take them to work?"

Tim groaned. "You're killing me, you know that?"

Laylah giggled as she packed up a great big Christmas tin. "Good night, Tim," she said as he put on his coat. She handed him the cookies. "Merry Christmas."


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Tim put the cookies on the edge of his desk, mostly hoping that no one would notice, but there was no such luck. He'd barely turned on his computer when Nelson walked by.

"Hey, Tim," Nelson eyed the tin. "Are those Christmas cookies?"

Tim nudged them toward the other marshal. "Help yourself, Nelson." He did.

Tim had several files on his desk, and he dug into the top one, but several hours later, he realized he hadn't gotten very far. He was distracted.

Tim glanced over and saw Raylan's computer screen. Raylan was bouncing back and forth between two different web pages, one with bath products, the other with a list of popular Christmas gifts for women.

"What are you doin'?" Tim leaned over the plexiglass partition.

Raylan sat back in his chair. "Have you gotten your gift for the gift exchange yet?"

"Yup," Tim nodded. "You haven't? The party's on Friday."

"I know," Raylan said. "I just don't know what to get."

"Who'd you get?" Tim asked.

Raylan sighed and narrowed his eyes before shifting them across the office. Tim followed to where they landed at the admin clerk's desk. Wendy's fingers were pecking away, her back perfectly ram-rod straight.

Tim found it impossible to hold back a chuckle. "Really?" He asked. "And I thought my gift was tough."

"Why?" Raylan asked. "Who'd you get?"

Tim shifted his own eyes to the desk next to Raylan's. Rachel wasn't at her desk, she was in Art's office, but Tim still didn't want to say it out loud.

"And you already got your gift?" Raylan asked.

Tim sighed and stood up, grabbing his coat. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Raylan grabbed his coat and hat before following Tim to the elevator.

"We're going to get your gift," Tim said. He led the way out of the courthouse and down the street.

"You think it'll be that easy?" Raylan asked.

"Yup," Tim said as they entered the store. Ronnie was behind the counter checking out a customer, and Laylah was in the baby section.

"Hi," she said brightly when they entered.

Raylan was grinning like the Chester Cat, so Tim sighed. "Well, I might as well get this over with," he said. "Laylah, this is Raylan, Raylan this is Laylah."

Raylan extended a hand. "It's a pleasure," he said.

"Nice to meet you," Laylah said. "What can we do for you?" Laylah glanced between Tim and Raylan as she headed behind the counter to fix them hot chocolate.

"Well, it turns out, my Secret Santa gift wasn't the most difficult gift to find," Tim slapped Raylan on the shoulder.

"Uh oh," Laylah said with a mischievous smile. "Who'd you get?"

"Wendy," Raylan said. "She's our admin clerk and she's," he searched for the right description, "really happy all the time."

Laylah laughed. "I think I'm pretty happy," she said as she poured.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but you're not annoying," he said. "Wendy's a little intense."

"Okay," Laylah nodded. "What's she like?"

"I thought we just told you," Raylan said. "She's perky."

"No," Laylah shook her head. "I mean what does she like?" Both men were completely silent. "Well, how long has she been there?"

"Three years?" Raylan said, or almost asked.

Laylah laughed. "And all you know about her is that she's happy, annoying, intense, and perky."

"Well, she's not the kind of coworker you invite to drinks after work," Raylan said with a shrug.

"She likes Christmas," Tim said as Laylah handed them the small mugs. "She tries to decorate the whole office and even asked if she could play Christmas carols in the afternoons."

"Well, take a look in the holiday section and if you don't find anything, let me know and we'll start over," Laylah waved a hand behind them.

"Thank you," Raylan said and he led the way.

They looked around for a minute before Tim found it. "Here," he held up a group of wooden penguins in a line. Two had scarves, the one in the middle had a Santa hat and more than enough glitter. "She has a penguin screensaver right now."

"Sure, why not?" Raylan grabbed the penguins and made a casual beeline for the counter.

Tim introduced Raylan and Ronnie, but Raylan concentrated on Laylah, even as he wasn't rude to Ronnie while she checked him out.

"So, how'd you two meet, exactly?" He asked as Ronnie bagged his purchase.

Laylah laughed. "We bumped into each other on the street," she said.

"No, really," Raylan leaned against the counter and sipped his cocoa.

"Really," Laylah nodded. "He was chasing somebody and I rounded the corner from the parking lot and we literally collided."

Raylan chuckled before turning to Tim. "Who were you chasing?"

"Coulter," Tim answered.

"On foot?"

Tim shrugged. "I was comin' out of the courthouse and he was walking by. I didn't really think about it."

Raylan drained his cup with a grin. "That's the best story I've heard in a long time," he said as he took his purchase from Ronnie. "Thank you, ma'am," he said with a tip of his hat. He turned to Laylah. "Ma'am, it was nice to finally meet you."

Tim rolled his eyes before following Raylan toward the door. "See you tomorrow," he said with a wink.

Laylah grinned. "Okay," she said. "Bye."

Raylan was silent on the walk back to the courthouse, but his posture said it all. Before they entered the building, Tim sighed.

"What?" He asked in exasperation.

Raylan laughed. "Just friends, huh?" He asked.


	11. Chapter 11

On the Eighth Day of Christmas Laylah remembered to let Tim know to dress warmly and wear comfortable shoes before their "Eighth Day of Christmas" and she arrived at his house promptly at six. "Good evening," she said as he came out and took the large box from her again. "Hi," he said. She held the door open for him and he followed her in. "Kitchen?" He asked as she closed the door. "Uh huh," Laylah said as she took off her gloves and then unwound her scarf. She laid her things across the back of one of the kitchen chairs and proceeded into the kitchen to heat up their dinner. "Oh man," Tim said as she put thick slabs of meatloaf on two plates and dished up healthy portions of mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and spiced corn as well. "Everything looks delicious." While the plates were heating, Tim pulled a ginger ale and a beer from the fridge and Laylah grabbed the silverware. "So," Tim said as they sat down. "What are we doing tonight?" He tore apart a biscuit. Laylah made a sour face. "You know the rules by now," she said. "It's a surprise." "I know the rules," Tim said. "I just keep hoping you'll slip." Laylah laughed and Tim grinned. "This is awesome by the way, thank you." "You're welcome," Laylah said with a nod. "Do you do much cooking?" "Not for just me," Tim shook his head. "I do a lot better out on the grill than I do in here on the stove." He shrugged. "I manage, but I get take-out a lot more than I cook." Laylah laughed. "Wanna know a secret?" She asked. Tim nodded. "Me too," she said. Tim laughed, then Laylah had a thought. "Why is it so hard to cook for just one person?" Tim answered immediately. "Because food," he held up his fork, "especially good food, is meant to be shared." Laylah couldn't argue with that. Once they'd cleaned up the kitchen, they headed out to Laylah's car and she headed back to the shop. "Don't worry," she said as they got out of the car. "We're not making anything or decorating anything, I just thought it'd be easier to park here." Tim grinned. "We're going to the luminary walk, aren't we." He didn't phrase it like a question. Laylah sighed as she buttoned her coat. "Yes," she said and led the way down the street. The historic district was only a couple of blocks from the shop and the streets of the district were lined with paper and glass luminaries and street vendors were selling everything from hot chocolate to barbecue ribs. A group in victorian garb was singing Christmas carols and down the street a woman was playing a harp. Most of the victorian mansions were decorated above and beyond even what Laylah would deem necessary, and the streets carried a magical glow. Laylah was trying to look everywhere at once so she didn't miss anything important as they walked up to the ticket booth to purchase entrance into some of the homes. "Hi," the woman in the booth had a space heater blowing directly on her. "Two?" "Yes, please," Laylah said as she pulled out her wallet. Tim reached for his and Laylah shook her head. "My treat," she said. "You sure?" Tim asked. Laylah nodded. "It was my idea," she said as she handed the woman a twenty dollar bill. In return, they received two pamphlets. "All of the houses are listed in order as you head east," the woman motioned behind her. She smiled warmly. "Enjoy," she said. "Thank you," Laylah handed one pamphlet to Tim and they headed down the street. "If you see anything you'd like to look at, let me know." Besides the food, people were selling crafts, instruments, kitchen utensils, anything that someone might need as a last minute gift item. "So, we can go in some of the houses?" Tim asked. "I didn't know that." "Yeah," Laylah nodded. "They decorate them all up and then let us tour them. Anyone who puts their house on the tour gets a portion of the ticket sales to put back into fixing up the houses so this district can continue to improve." "That's a great idea," Tim motioned toward the sidewalk leading up to a very large, brick house with columns on the porch that supported a second story balcony. Laylah led the way. She was actually more excited than she was letting on because she loved old houses with a lot of character. The cool thing about the historic district was that if someone bought a house there, they were under contract to keep it historically accurate. They could make modern improvements, of course, but the integrity of the house had to remain the same. They viewed amazing stair cases, crown molding, oak floors, crystal chandeliers, and antique furniture almost to Laylah's heart's content, while the owners answered the questions they could. One house on the tour was for sale and as they entered, Tim laughed. "Putting it in the tour was a great idea," he said. "Free advertising." An older man with a kind smile greeted them at the door. "Hello and welcome," he said as he marked their pamphlets so that they'd have to pay again to enter the house a second time. "Feel free to look around," he motioned past the massive foyer. "You know, it's for sale," he said with a wink. "Perfect for a young couple just starting out." "We're not a couple," Tim and Laylah said at the same time. "No?" The man glanced between them then grinned. "Could'a fooled me," he said. "Well, enjoy anyway." He stepped aside so they could enter the house. They wandered through a living room with tall ceilings and a dining room with amazing crown molding and beautiful hard wood floors, but when they reached the kitchen, Laylah felt her heart give a happy little sigh. "Oh, I could die happily in a kitchen like this," she said as her fingers lightly grazed the pale granite countertops. The island in the middle held the apron sink and the gas range while the double oven was built into the wall nearby. The white cabinets were tall and went all the way to the ceiling. "Kitchen envy?" Tim asked. Laylah laughed. "Definitely," she said. "I'd love to have a place like this one day," she said as they headed up the back stairs. "You know, something that isn't exactly like every other house on the block." The small back bedroom, which was probably for staff members originally, had been converted into a spacious laundry room and the bathroom was the perfect mix of old and new. They got a better look at the chandelier over the staircase before heading into the bedrooms. Two were good sized, with high ceilings and large windows, but the third was huge. A king sized bed fit happily against the wall with old nightstands on either side and a large cedar chest at the foot. A low chaise was situated under the window with a low bookcase beside it. Laylah sighed before she realized it. "You like this too?" Tim asked. Laylah nodded. "It has so much character, but it's quaint, not stuffy." Tim shrugged. "It's nice, but it's pretty big. Do you really need all this space?" "No," Laylah shook her head, "but it's nice to dream," she said with a grin. They headed back outside and before too long, they found Ronnie and her future mother-in-law at the booth space Ronnie and Laylah had rented. A lot of their Christmas merchandise was displayed, along with a few other things. Ronnie was bundled in a coat, scarf, ear-muffs, and gloves and held a hot chocolate in both hands. Betty was similarly dressed. "Hi!" Ronnie said brightly as they approached. "Having fun?" "Yes," Laylah admitted. "Hi, Betty!" She turned to Tim. "Tim, this is Brandon's mom, Betty." "Nice to meet you, ma'am," Tim held out a hand. "Hi!" Ronnie's future mother-in-law was equally peppy. "Nice to meet you too!" "I feel kinda bad that I'm not back there helping you, though," Laylah said. It was true. Ronnie waved a hand at her. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Betty and I are having a blast." Betty nodded. "Besides, you'll be here Saturday, so I'm not worried." "You sure?" Laylah asked. Betty smiled. "Of course," she said. "I was happy to help when I found out you had a date." Laylah gave Tim an apologetic look. "We're just friends," she said. "Really?" Betty really looked disappointed. "I thought sure you were a couple," she turned to Ronnie. "Wouldn't they make a cute couple?" "They would," Ronnie agreed, "but I learned long ago to not play matchmaker, especially with my bestie." That made Laylah smile. "Go on," Ronnie jerked her head down the street, "get outta here." They headed back to the store to get Laylah's car, and the drive back to Tim's house was mostly silent. Laylah found herself humming along to the Christmas carols on the radio. When they got to Tim's house, he turned to her with a smile. "I had a lot of fun," he said. "Thank you." Laylah smiled. "You're welcome," she said. "Merry Christmas, Tim." 


	12. Chapter 12

Laylah had broken up with Brian almost five months ago, and during that time, she'd ignored every man her mother pointed out or even asked out for her, and focused on herself. She'd bandaged, mended, and mostly healed her broken heart, it only hurt when she saw Brian. She hadn't thought about a relationship and she'd managed to truly not be lonely. But after several evenings with Deputy US Marshal Tim Gutterson, she realized she really didn't even miss the good times she and Brian had shared. She felt her still-fragile heart slipping from her grip and it scared her as much as it excited her. Was she really ready to risk getting hurt again? Because that's what a relationship boiled down to- being willing to risk getting hurt while trusting that the other person wouldn't hurt you. Could she do that?

And what if all of these feelings were really just the magic of Christmas? What if there was nothing real or solid to base a relationship on? Laylah felt butterflies in her stomach as she readied for Tim's office party, but she gave herself a stern look in the mirror.

"Keep a lid on it, girl," she told herself as she spread another layer of mascara through her lashes. She hoped she'd listen, but as she slipped into her casual Christmas dress, she didn't know if she even could.

Tim arrived promptly at seven. "Wow," he said after she opened the door. "You look great."

"Too much?" Laylah asked, suddenly doubtful about the red, swingy dress and gold ballet flats.

"No," Tim shook his head. "Very festive."

Laylah grabbed her coat and purse and headed into the hallway. "Thank you," she said. "So, where's the party?"

"The private room at the casino," Tim said. "A few people usually go down and play slots or cards, but most of us don't."

"Good," Laylah said with a nod. "I don't particularly care for gambling, but what I really can't stand is that ching-a-ring those slot machines constantly make." She climbed into the passenger seat of Tim's truck after he held open her door. "Thank you," she said.

Once Tim was settled beside her and both had fastened their seat belts, they were off. The black gift bag and silver tissue paper was sitting in between them.

Laylah sighed. "Don't tell me you didn't wrap it," she said.

Tim gave her a quick glance. "I thought it was already wrapped more nicely than I could do," he said.

Laylah sighed. "I guess it's fine," she said. She forced herself to keep the mood light even though she was nervous. When she was nervous, Laylah tended to get grumpy so she was mindful of her attitude.

They arrived at the casino and headed up the stairs. They maneuvered passed the restaurant, and a tall, slightly fraying man in a suit greeted them in the hall.

"Hey, Tim," the man said with a grin. He was talking to Tim, but he was grinning at Laylah.

"Hey, Nelson," Tim said. "This is Laylah. Laylah, Nelson."

"Nice to meet you," Nelson extended a hand.

"And you," Laylah repeated Nelson's name three times so she'd hopefully remember it later. She knew she'd be meeting so many people that she'd probably forget most of the names.

They entered the large, private banquet hall, and Laylah immediately gave up on trying to remember anyone's names. At least thirty people were seated at tables, milling around, or standing near the private bar.

A bouncy woman greeted them at the door. "Hi," she said, "I'm Wendy."

"Laylah," Laylah introduced herself. "Nice to meet you."

Wendy began talking a mile a minute, but Tim guided Laylah further into the room by the elbow and Laylah gratefully allowed herself to be pulled away.

"I see what you mean about perky," she said. "That has to be the woman Raylan drew, right? Or is there someone worse around here somewhere?"

"No, that's her," Tim said with a half-grin. "You get used to it."

"Really?" Laylah asked.

"No," Tim shook his head.

They circled the room and Laylah smiled and shook hands with almost everyone. She remembered Raylan and was almost surprised to see him without a date. Tim's description of Rachel was pretty spot on, she was professional and smart, dressed in black suit pants and a jacket with a burgundy button down. She was also younger than Laylah had imagined.

Laylah spent a good part of the evening before dinner with the wife of Tim's boss. She liked Leslie right away, she had a sweet smile and a no nonsense attitude. She sort of mothered everyone in the room without hovering or even being annoying.

Dinner was absolutely delicious. The buffet was full of seafood, chicken, steak, and almost any side a person could think of. The dessert table had a s'mores spread with tiny little flames to roast giant marshmallows over, and several kinds of cakes, brownies, cookies, even macaroons and creme brûlée. Laylah was sure she wouldn't need to eat for a year after all this.

Wendy passed out the gifts while everyone was seated so as soon as dinner was over, all of the employees involved in the exchanged opened their gift. Laylah watched Tim gingerly pick up the gift and look at the tag.

"To Tim, from Wendy," he read out loud. He turned to Laylah. "Oh, boy," he muttered.

"Just open it," Laylah encouraged. "It can't be that bad."

Tim hesitated a moment longer before digging into the festive wrapping paper. "Sparq," he read. "Whiskey stones."

"What's that?" Laylah asked.

"Never heard of them, but if they work, they might be pretty cool," Tim said as he handed over the small box.

"Whiskey Stones," Laylah read. "Keep whiskey cold without watering it down." She handed the box back to Tim. "See, I told you it wouldn't be that bad."

After dinner, Wendy headed up the door prizes but neither Tim nor Laylah won anything. Laylah wasn't surprised. She never won prizes. Several people went downstairs, a couple of groups played the party games Wendy had brought, and others just mingled. Still a little unsure of herself, Laylah was glad Tim chose to stay in the last group, easily moving around the room. Laylah tagged along.

"Thank you so much," Rachel said when they reached her. She and Raylan were standing by the window. "I absolutely love the scarf and gloves, and the card gave me a laugh."

"You're welcome," Tim said with a nod.

"I'm guessing you had help picking it out," Rachel winked at Laylah.

"I did," Tim admitted before taking a swig of his bourbon.

Rachel turned to Laylah. "Well, thank you," she said. "I love them. They're so soft."

Laylah smiled. She thought she would like Rachel if they got to hang out at all. "You're welcome," she said.

Laylah was secretly glad when it was time to go. She wasn't exactly antisocial, but she wasn't a party-planning extrovert like Wendy either. When Tim pulled up to her building, he stopped her from getting out right away.

"Thank you for coming tonight," he said. "I had a much better time than I would have if I'd have been by myself."

Laylah smiled. "Thanks for inviting me," she said. "I had a fun." She reached for her door handle, then turned back toward Tim. "Merry Christmas, Tim." She said before she got out of the truck and headed inside.


	13. Chapter 13

Tim had been home almost an hour and had almost finished his second generous glass of bourbon when his phone alerted him that he had a new text. He grabbed it off the coffee table and saw Laylah's message.

Can you come over?

Dread washed over him and he read the text three times before deciding against his better judgement. He didn't want or have the willpower to say no.

Be right there, he replied and pulled himself off the couch. He couldn't shake the bad feeling throughout the fifteen minute drive to her apartment and it felt stronger as he walked up the stairs to her door and knocked.

Laylah opened the door. "Hey," Tim said as he stepped inside.

He barely had time to see that she was in her pajamas- a cute cotton Christmas number with a white shirt that had three Christmas trees on it and green pants dotted with tiny white Christmas trees. If her eyes weren't red and swollen, he'd have thought she was one of those pajama ads plastered everywhere this time of year.

Tim didn't have time to say or notice anything else because as soon as the door was closed behind him, Laylah grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him forcibly toward her, crushing his lips with hers. For a moment, all sense of reason left him and he returned the kiss, the wine on her tongue mingling with the bourbon on his. But Tim had been around the block a time or two and he knew the difference between desire and desperation and Laylah's kiss was full of the wrong one.

Either Laylah was too drunk or Tim wasn't drunk enough, he couldn't decide which, but he regained enough control of himself to pull away. "Laylah-"

"Shut up, Tim," she said. "Don't talk." She pulled herself up on her tiptoes again, leaning toward him, but he put his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him.

"Come on, Laylah," he said. "You don't want to do this."

"Yes, I do," she looked up at him with those big brown eyes. "I know you do to."

Oh, yes he did. "Not like this," he said. "You'll regret it in the morning and I respect you too much to-"

Laylah took a step back, her eyes suddenly full of venom. "Respect!" she seethed. "I've had enough respect to last a lifetime. I'm so respected that I might as well be invisible!"

So that was it, Tim realized. Her sister was the tough one, her brother was the smart one, and she felt like she was the invisible one.

"Laylah, you're not invisible," Tim said. "Not by a long shot. Didn't you not notice the way everyone was looking at you tonight?" She gave him a funny look. "From the moment we walked in the door, no one could believe that I had such a gorgeous, classy girl by my side."

Her shoulders were slumped. "You're just saying that," she said quietly.

"I'm not," he shook his head. "Laylah, everywhere we've gone, people have noticed you. But all it takes is one look to know that you're not the kind of girl to be cat-called and leered at" He took a small step toward her. "You're way too good for me." He knew, he'd looked her up. She'd never even had a speeding ticket and her Facebook page was downright wholesome.

She gave an unladylike snort. "I don't want to be good all the time," she said. "Sometimes I want to be brave, or reckless, even wild." She sighed. "I want to be wooed and loved and even properly ravished every once in a while." Tears formed in her eyes. "I just want to be seen."

She wouldn't meet his eyes so Tim kept his voice quiet and soothing, the way he'd talk to an injured animal. "I see you," he said. Her eyes flew up to meet his in surprise. He closed the distance between them. "Believe me, I see you. And I like what I see." He pulled her gently to him, pulling her head against his shoulder. She was stiff as a board and it took her a moment to relax. "I just don't want you to regret me," he said.

Laylah sniffed. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice like a child's.

He released her and took her hand. "Come on," he pulled her to the couch and shrugged out of his coat before they both sat down. The TV was on, some romantic Christmas movie was playing, and an almost empty bottle of wine was sitting by an even more empty wine glass.

He'd had a feeling that if Laylah relaxed at all, she'd be asleep within minutes and he'd been right. Before the first commercial break, she was leaning heavily against his shoulder. He brushed her hair out of her face and then looked around for the remote but didn't see it.

Great, he thought, I'm stuck with the Hallmark channel. Fortunately, before the movie was over, Tim had fallen asleep too.


	14. Chapter 14

On the Ninth Day of Christmas

The alarm on Laylah's phone sounded louder than it usually did and as she fumbled around for it without opening her eyes, Laylah realized several things. First, she realized she was on the couch instead of in her bed. Second, she realized that her head hurt and her mouth tasted awful. Third, she realized that she smelled coffee. Fourth, the night before flashed before her eyes in bits and pieces.

She sat up in a flash and wished she hadn't as the room swam before her. "Oh," she put a hand on her head, closed her eyes, and took a slow, deep breath.

"Here," Tim's voice was sympathetic.

Laylah's eyes flew open. Tim was standing in front of her, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a glass of water and bottle of aspirin in the other. He looked freshly showered.

Laylah couldn't look at him. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh," she said as she maneuvered past him. She'd never been more embarrassed in her life. Not even when she'd tripped and fallen flat on her face in middle school, her books sliding down the hallway in every direction.

She wasn't out of the room before Tim was behind her. "Laylah, it's alright."

Laylah buried her head in her hands. "I'm absolutely mortified!" She mumbled.

Tim kept his distance. "Laylah, it's okay," he said. "We all do stupid things when we're drunk."

That's why Laylah hardly ever drank more than one glass of wine. She hated the way she felt the next day and she definitely didn't like the idea of losing her better judgement. "Oh, is that what you call it?" Laylah finally turned around but she couldn't meet his eyes.

"That's what I call it," he said, his voice full of patience. "Now, we can let it ruin a perfectly good-" he paused a moment, "whatever this is, or we can forget all about it and get ready for my ninth day of Christmas." He held out the water and aspirin. "Weren't we going somewhere this morning?"

Santa's Helpers! Laylah had almost forgotten. She and Ronnie had volunteered ages ago. It was an organization started by two boys several years ago. They'd approached their parents and told them that they didn't really need anything for Christmas so they wanted to use the money their parents would have spent to get Christmas presents for a family in need. The next year, three more families joined in. Now, the boys were in high school, and donations and volunteers came in from all over.

Laylah and Ronnie had volunteered to wrap the presents other people would buy with the donated money. Then other volunteers would make the deliveries. She'd been so excited about it and now she'd ruined everything.

She looked up at Tim, not quite meeting his eyes. "You still wanna go?" She asked.

Tim set the coffee and water down and walked toward her. "Laylah, I meant what I said last night," he said.

Laylah tried to remember what he'd said, but parts of last night were kind of fuzzy. She thought he said something sweet, but she wasn't sure.

He refreshed her memory. "I'm crazy about you."

"You are?" Laylah asked, feeling silly.

"Yeah," Tim nodded. "And for some crazy reason I don't understand, you seem to like me too." He took a step toward her and took her hands. "But if we're going to do this, I wanna do it right."

"Me too," Laylah said. And she meant it. She never should have texted him last night. She never should have drank a bottle of wine while letting romantic Christmas movies make her feel alone and lonely.

Laylah took a step toward him and rested her head against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. Tim's arms came up around her shoulders and Laylah reveled in the feeling of his nearness. "Thank you," she said.

Tim kissed the top of her head. "You're welcome," he said before he untangled them. "Now, take this aspirin," he held the bottle out to her and Laylah dumped two into her hand before taking the glass of water from him. After several sips of water, she handed the glass back. "And drink this coffee," Tim held out the coffee mug. Laylah accepted it. "And then get yourself ready to go."

"Okay," Laylah took a small sip of the coffee before heading into her bedroom, coffee mug in hand.

The shower felt amazing, the toothpaste was even better, and Laylah felt more like herself when she emerged from the bathroom in her Christmas sweater of red and blue plaid and a pair of jeans. She slipped her feet into her boots before heading back into the bedroom to put on just a little makeup.

They met Ronnie and Brandon at Starbucks, and as soon as they walked in, Laylah got a look from her best friend.

Ronnie dragged Laylah to the merchandise shelf and pretended to peruse the items stacked neatly before them. "Okay, what's up?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" Laylah asked.

"I mean, suddenly it's all different," Ronnie said. "I know you better than anyone, Laylah, don't tell me you and Tim are just friends."

Laylah sighed. Of course Ronnie would notice. She was one of the most empathetic people Laylah had ever met. Ronnie could pick up on a person's mood or even some of their personality traits in a heart beat. Laylah always took everyone at face value and saw the best in them. It had gotten her hurt more than once.

"I won't," Laylah said. "But really, I don't know what we are yet," she said. "I think we're taking it slow and I think I like it that way."

Ronnie gave Laylah's hand a squeeze. "I'm happy for you," she said. "You deserve someone who'll treat you right."

"I'm pretty sure Tim will," Laylah agreed.

Ronnie faced her head on. "What? Do tell."

"It's a long story, but I'll tell you every detail tonight," Laylah promised.

"You'd better," Ronnie said as they rejoined the men in line just before it was their turn to order.

All of the presents were being delivered to a local car dealership and by the time the four arrived, a long line of tables had been set up and tubs of wrapping paper, tape, tags, bows, boxes, and tissue paper were under them.

Everyone signed the volunteer sheet and the woman passing around the clipboard instructed them to hang out for a few minutes because the first load of gifts hadn't arrived yet. They headed toward a seating area where two other couples and two young women were hanging out.

"We're wrapping presents?" Tim asked as they all sat down.

"Uh huh," Laylah nodded. "It's fun."

"I'm sure it is," Tim said. "But you know why I left Rachel's gift in that bag, right? I can't wrap nicely to save my life."

"It's not hard," Laylah said. "It just takes a little patience, and I know you have plenty of that."

They'd barely introduced themselves to the others sitting around when a van pulled up to the side door and several people got out. As gifts began being loaded inside, two young men walked straight toward them.

"Good morning," one of them said with a smile. "I'm Carson McAree, this is my brother, Corbin and we started Santa's Helpers eight years ago."

"And in eight years," Corbin took over, "we've been able to grow Santa's Helpers from our family wrapping presents in our basement to over fifty volunteers and over ten thousand dollars in donations."

"We can't do this much without your help," Carson said, "and we're extremely grateful that you're taking time out of this busy season to do something for someone you don't even know."

"Everything that's being brought in is tagged with the family and the name of the recipient," Corbin said. "Just make sure that all of the gifts for each family stay together and that the tags get marked properly. The delivery volunteers will be here in about half an hour."

"Thanks for being a part of Santa's Helpers," they said together.

Elizabeth, the woman with the clip board, guided them all over to the tables. Gifts were being piled behind them and they dug in and got started.

"Awe," Laylah said as she picked up an adorable outfit for a toddler girl. "Look, it has an owl on it, it's so sweet."

Tim glanced at it. "It's cute," he said.

Laylah rolled her eyes as she looked under the table for a garment box and some tissue paper. When she righted herself, she noticed Tim hadn't started wrapping the action figure he'd picked up.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

Tim glanced at her. "Nothing's wrong," he said. "I've just never wrapped a present in my life and I'm not really sure where to start."

"Okay," Laylah tried to hide her surprise. "It's easy," she grabbed a cute roll of wrapping paper with happy little polar bears on it. "You just roll out some paper," she demonstrated. Tim rolled out some Scooby Doo wrapping paper. "Then you set your item on it," he did. "And then you fold it over to make sure you have enough paper and cut."

"All the way down?" Tim asked. "The paper will be way too long."

"It's easier if you keep the roll one length," Laylah explained. "We'll cut our piece to size and hopefully save the rest for at least one more present." They sliced and set the rolls of paper back under the table. "Now we size this way and cut again," Laylah positioned the box on the paper so that one side folded just over the middle, then folded the other over and left a few extra inches before cutting again.

Tim watched her before doing the same, then they set the extra paper carefully under the table. "Okay, so we just fold and tape?"

Laylah laughed. "If you want it to look like a third grader wrapped it," she said. "No, you turn the gift upside down," he did, "and fold one side over and tape it to the back of the gift with a small piece of tape. That secures the paper so that it wraps better." They both managed that step pretty easily. "Then you fold the other side over and tape and the easy part is done."

"That's what I was afraid of," Tim said. "Now what?"

Laylah stifled a giggle. "Now, we can do the sides one of two ways," she said. "You can fold it like an envelope, or fold both sides in first and then the top and bottom."

"Which way's easier?" Tim asked.

"Definitely the envelope," Laylah said. "Like this. Fold the top down and crease it nicely, then fold each side in right along the edge, then fold the bottom up and tape." Laylah looked over and was pleasantly surprised. "See, I told you you had the patience for this," she said.

Tim gave her a stern look. "You know I'm paying you back for all of this, right?" He asked. "Just wait until I get you on the shooting range."

Laylah shrugged. "I'm actually kind of excited about it," she said. "I'm ready for something new." She realized she wasn't just talking about the gun range.

After almost three hours of constantly wrapping the loads of gifts that came in, they wrapped the very last presents, loaded them onto the last van, and helped tear down the tables. Once the much dwindled supplies of wrapping paper had been loaded into Elizabeth's vehicle, Laylah, Tim, Ronnie, and Brandon went across the street to Steak n' Shake. It was lunch time on the Saturday before Christmas so they had to wait about twenty minutes before they got a table.

Once they'd sat down and ordered, Ronnie looked at Laylah. "Ready for Christmas?" She asked.

"Almost, I just need to wrap everything," Laylah said. She glanced at Tim. "We'll do that Monday."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Oh great, more wrapping," he said. His arm was draped casually around the back of the booth behind Laylah, and his nearness sent a little thrill through her but she was glad he didn't seem to be big on PDA.

"We wrap presents a little differently," Ronnie said with a smile and a wink. "It's fun."

Tim exchanged a glance with Brandon. "I'll bet it is," he said.

After lunch, Tim took Laylah home. They sat in the truck for a minute and Laylah was sure neither of them knew how to say goodbye. They hadn't kissed since the night before, not unless Tim kissing Laylah's forehead counted and she thought it didn't.

Laylah solved the dilemma, throwing caution to the wind. She leaned over and gave Tim a quick kiss. "Thanks for today," she said. "Merry Christmas."


	15. Chapter 15

On the Tenth Day of Christmas

Tim was hoping for supper on Monday, December 19th, and Laylah didn't disappoint. As soon as she let him in, Laylah gave him a quick kiss before hurrying to the kitchen.

"Smells great," Tim said as he hung up his coat. He followed her more slowly, thinking about the last few weeks. It had been a long time since Tim had been in anything that could be considered close to a relationship and he had to admit, he liked the way it made him feel.

"Thanks," Laylah said as she dished up two large helpings of rice and even healthier portions of stir fry on top of them.

"Wow," Tim headed straight for the silverware drawer and pulled out the necessary items before grabbing several napkins out of the drawer below. Laylah set a beer beside his plate and a glass of water beside hers before they sat down.

Tim didn't waste any time in digging in. "This is awesome," he said after his second bite. He had to remind himself to not scarf his food down. He forced himself to chew slowly.

"Thank you," he liked the way Laylah smiled when he complimented her. He made a mental note to compliment her often. "How's work?" her words surprised him. He hadn't really told her much about his job.

"Busy," Tim admitted evasively. "Not enough good guys chasing the bad guys," he said.

"Can I ask you a question?" Laylah asked.

Uh oh, Tim thought. "Sure," he shrugged.

"How dangerous is your job?" she asked.

Tim thought about it before he answered. "Not as dangerous as the Rangers, but more dangerous than selling cars or something."

Laylah gave him a stern look. "No really, on a scale from one to ten."

"Most days a five or six," Tim guessed. When her stern look came back he leaned back in his chair. "No really," he said. "Most of the time it's not like you see on TV."

"But sometimes it is?" Laylah asked.

Tim shrugged again. "Occasionally it's a seven or eight. It's rarely a nine or ten."

"What's a nine or ten?" Laylah asked.

"I'd guess a nine or ten would be a life-threatening situation," Tim said carefully.

"Have you been in a life-threatening situation since you joined the marshals?" Laylah asked. She hadn't taken a bite of her meal for a minute or two.

"Who's life?" Tim asked. "Mine or someone else's?"

"Either," Laylah replied.

"Yes, ma'am," Tim said. He didn't like lying.

"How many times?" she asked.

"In two years?" Tim thought about it. "My own, maybe two or three, someone else's, maybe ten or twelve."

"So, how do you get out of a nine or ten situation?" Laylah asked.

"Well, usually Raylan shoots someone," Tim answered easily.

Laylah laughed. "I'm serious, Tim," she said.

"So am I," Tim replied.

She sobered and after a moment of thought asked another question. "So what happens if Raylan doesn't shoot someone?" Her voice was a little nervous.

"You want the truth?" Laylah nodded.

Tim was hoping to have this conversation later, much later, but he took a deep breath. "Laylah," he began and then stopped.

"Tim, I'm not completely naive," she said. "I know what what it means to be a Ranger."

Tim nodded. "Yeah, but you don't know everything." He met her gaze evenly.

"Well please don't decide what I can and can't handle," she was very serious. "If you don't want to talk about it yet, that's okay, but decide for yourself, not me."

He might as well get it over with. "Okay," Tim nodded before clearing his throat. "Laylah, I'm a sniper." She sat up, surprised, but he continued before she could say anything. "I'm a sniper, I probably drink too much, and although PTSD isn't a huge problem, it is a problem." His full confession surprised him, he hadn't planned on saying that much.

Laylah sat still for over half a minute and he could see the wheels turning as she thought about what he'd basically blurted out. Her face was a little pale, but when she looked back up at him, her gaze was steady.

"So what happens if Raylan doesn't shoot someone?" She asked again.

"Well," Tim was more than slightly relieved at the fact that she didn't just kick him out, "then I shoot someone. Or sometimes Art shoots someone. Or occasionally, Rachel shoots someone."

He was afraid she'd ask more questions, maybe about specific situations or events, but she didn't. "Thank you," she was all she said. She picked up her fork and resumed eating so Tim did the same.

The silence dragged on for a minute or two and Tim started to say something just to break the silence but she cut him off.

"It's okay, Tim," she said. "I'm okay. It's a lot to process, but for now i'm good."

"You sure?"

She nodded. "We all have skeletons," she said.

"Really?" Tim smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Name one of yours."

She pursed her lips in thought. "One time I forgot to return a library book. It's still on my shelf." Tim felt himself smile in spite of himself. "I drink too much caffeine and eat too much chocolate, sometimes, when I'm in a hurry, I might go as high as four miles over the speed limit, and," she leaned forward with a sassy shrug, "my iPod contains no fewer than six songs with the explicit lyric warning."

"You know those aren't really skeletons, right?" Tim asked.

Laylah sighed then concentrated on the condensation sliding down his beer bottle. "I am very insecure," she said finally. She looked up at him. "I've let myself get into a couple of bad relationships because being with someone who didn't treat me right sounded better than being alone."

Tim rested his chin on his hand. It helped him think. "Brian?" He asked after a moment.

Laylah shook her head. "No, he was inconsiderate, but he wasn't abusive or anything. Before him, I-" she shook her head again. "I've never been hit," she clarified, "I don't think I'd stick around long enough to let a man hit me twice, but I let a couple of people be very verbally and emotionally abusive and it's hard to remember that they weren't telling the truth sometimes."

Tim exhaled slowly. "I can live with that," he said before he refocused on his meal.

After supper, they quickly cleaned up, then Laylah brought out several large boxes of gifts before dragging two large rolls of brown paper, one big ball of twine, and eight or nine Christmas stamps of all sizes out of her craft room.

Tim groaned as they sat back down. "Are we _making_ wrapping paper?" he asked as he picked up a stamp and turned it over in his hand.

"It's not as complicated as you'd think," Laylah said with a smile. "I don't over-do it."

Fortunately, she wasn't kidding. All of Laylah's gifts were in boxes so they measured and cut the paper to fit each box. Then Laylah selected a stamp or two for each package and, estimating where the paper would fit on the box, she stamped one large stamp or created a simple design with two smaller ones in one location on the paper.

As they wrapped, Laylah made sure that each design was on the front of the box, but she didn't want any of them centered, putting the stamps in different corners of the boxes.

"Why aren't they centered?" Tim asked as they carefully wrapped each box.

"So you can see the picture once we put the twine on," she said. "And we have to use the twine instead of bows."

"Why?" Tim asked.

"You know," Laylah said as she carefully creased the paper and taped the end down, "like the song. Brown paper packages tied up with string."

Tim arched an eyebrow as he wracked his brain, but he drew a complete blank.

His face must've registered his confusion because Laylah snorted. "Really?" she asked. "You know, the 'Favorite Things' song from 'The sound of Music?"

"I think we watched that in seventh grade," Tim said, "but I don't really remember."

Laylah shook her head. "Wow," she said. "We need to add that to the list of things to do."

"After the shooting range?" Tim asked hopefully.

Laylah smiled. "After the shooting range," she consented.

"And then we'll have to do something else pretty manly after that," Tim said as he carefully taped the package he was wrapping. "At this rate, it'll take me forever to get my man card back."

In response, Laylah wadded up a small scrap of brown paper and threw it at him. Tim's aim was better and before they knew it, paper was flying through the small kitchen. Once the paper wad fight that Tim clearly won was over, they had to clean all the paper scraps off the floor.

They managed to get all of the presents wrapped and everything put away, but Tim found that he really didn't want to leave. He shrugged into his coat and withheld a sigh. "See you Wednesday?" he asked.

Laylah's smile melted Tim's insides. "Wednesday," she said before she kissed him in a way that made Tim wish it was already Wednesday. "Merry Christmas, Tim," she said.


	16. Chapter 16

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas

Early on Wednesday, December 21st, Laylah texted Tim. Can you be at the shop at 6?

He replied with a simple, "see you then," but about six hours later he texted again, saying he'd be late, maybe a little after seven.

Since Brandon was running late too, Laylah and Ronnie used the extra time to work on a couple of projects for the store. Ronnie had finished the Christmas baby quilt a customer was due to pick up tomorrow earlier in the day but she'd already started a lacy christening blanket. Laylah had already made enough New Year's cards to last this year and maybe next so she started on the Valentine's Day stock until Brandon was at the door.

Together, Laylah and Ronnie rushed to the door, throwing Santa hats on their heads, and as soon as they opened it for him, they began singing. "We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas," they continued to sing as he hurried inside and Laylah locked the door behind him. "And a happy new year!" They finished.

Laylah had a decent singing voice and she could hold a melody which was good because Ronnie, a much better singer than her, always launched into a pretty harmony that sometimes made Laylah a little jealous. When they finished, Brandon applauded before giving his fiancé a quick kiss.

"Thank you, we'll be here all week," Ronnie said as she and Laylah went for their coats. They bundled up and grabbed their stuffed totes before heading outside and walking toward the courthouse.

"You aren't planning on singing for Tim out here, are you?" Brandon asked doubtfully as they walked.

"Absolutely," Ronnie said. "We carol every year when we do this."

Brandon groaned. "I'm not singing," he said.

Laylah exchanged a glance with her friend and giggled when Ronnie shrugged. "You're missing out, my love," she said. "But I won't force you."

They had to wait almost twenty minutes, but finally, Rachel stepped out of the courthouse, Tim and Raylan a step behind. They were deep in a discussion, but all three stopped when they saw Laylah and Ronnie with Brandon unwillingly sandwiched between them. Before they could even greet them, Laylah and Ronnie launched into song.

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la la!" They swayed back and forth, pushing Brandon between them as they sang. Tim cracked a grin, Rachel smiled, and Raylan laughed outright.

Several people stopped to stare, but that didn't stop them from singing their hearts out through the entire first verse of the song. When they finished, Rachel and Raylan actually applauded while Laylah and Tim covered the distance between one another.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he said with a warm smile. This was the first time she'd seen him and his coworkers at the same time since they'd sort of become a thing and she wasn't sure if he'd kiss her. He didn't and she was okay with following his lead.

"Hi Raylan, Rachel," Laylah almost forgot to say hello to them.

"Howdy," Raylan had a satisfied grin on his face. "How are you this evening, Laylah?"

"Fine," she replied before introducing Brandon to Raylan and both Ronnie and Brandon to Rachel. "Sucks that you guys had to work late."

"Well," Raylan smiled again, "if we'd have known Tim had a date, we would've cut him off earlier."

"Really?" Tim didn't sound like he believed him.

"Nah," Raylan shook his head. Tim rolled his eyes. "You all have a good night," the cowboy said before heading toward the parking lot.

"Goodnight," Rachel said. Laylah liked her smile. "Merry Christmas, everyone."

As soon as they were both gone, Laylah turned to Tim. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, we ordered takeout about an hour ago," he said.

"And you're warm enough?" Laylah asked.

In answer, Tim threw a stocking cap on top of his head. "Yes, ma'am," he said as he pulled his gloves out of his coat pocket. "You told me to dress warmly yesterday so I'm assuming that we're outside again tonight, right?" He automatically took the heavy tote from Laylah's shoulder and slung it over his own.

"Yup," Laylah nodded as the four moved into a tight circle. "Which side of the street do you want?" She asked Ronnie as Tim and Brandon shook hands.

"Either one," Ronnie straightened the Santa hat on her head.

"We don't mind going across the street," Laylah said. "We'll see you at the other end!" She grabbed Tim's hand and once the cross walk gave the signal, they hurried across the street.

"What are we doing tonight?" Tim asked once they were safely across.

"Something that Ronnie and I do every year," Laylah answered as she took one of the loops of the tote off of Tim's shoulder and reached inside the bag.

She withdrew a crocheted scarf, hat, and pair of mittens that she'd bundled together and she went over to the nearest telephone pole. The nail from last year was still there so she just slipped the set over the nail and moved on.

Tim chuckled as they walked. "I shouldn't be surprised that this is you," he said as they approached the next telephone pole. He had the next set ready. "I saw these last year."

Laylah nodded. "We've done this since high school," Laylah admitted. "Each year we make two sets per month, then in December we put them out for anyone who needs them. We have some other friends that take other parts of town too, so all together six streets get covered."

They hung the third, this time having to put a new nail into the telephone pole before she spoke again. "How was work? Busy, I assume?" They could hear Ronnie singing "The First Noel" across the street and it made Laylah smile.

Tim nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Some thugs from out of town are causing more trouble than their worth."

"From where?" Laylah asked.

"Detroit," Tim answered.

Laylah froze just as she started to hang a set on the next pole. "Like the mafia?" When Tim didn't reply either way, she thought she had her answer. "That sounds more dangerous than a five or six," she said.

Tim shrugged. "Maybe it's a seven right now," he admitted. "But it isn't always and I can take care of myself." Laylah hadn't moved so Tim took the bundle from her and hung it up. "It's fine, Laylah, really."

Laylah shook herself out of the momentary terror that had enveloped her and took Tim's hand, leading him further down the street. "Did you know that my favorite color is yellow?" She asked in an effort to change the subject. "What's yours?"

Tim laughed through his nose. "Green."

Laylah rolled her eyes. "Like army green?"

Tim shrugged. 'More like grass green." He picked up the game. "I like country music and rock 'n roll. What kind of music do you like?" He handed Laylah another bundle.

"Depends on my mood," she said. "Right now, it's almost nonstop Christmas music, but I like a lot of different music." She might as well be honest. "My iPod has everything from opera and show tunes to blue grass and country, to rock and even a very little rap." Tim arched an eyebrow before they continued down the street. It took Laylah a moment to think of something else to say, but finally, she managed. "My favorite dessert is ice cream. What's yours?"

Tim laughed. "I'm actually not a huge sweets fan, but when I want something, I usually go for pie. But Raylan sometimes eats ice cream for supper."

Laylah laughed. "Well, I don't do that," she said. "But if I let myself, I'd eat ice cream every day." He handed her another set, a mix of several bright colors. "Awe, this was my favorite one," she said. "I almost kept it to give to my sister, but she has two or three sets from me already." She waited for Tim to drive a nail into the telephone pole, then she hung it up. "What's your favorite kind of pie?"

"Depends on my mood, I guess," Tim replied. "Or maybe the season. I'll read almost anything from historical novels to sci fi. You like to read?"

"Absolutely," Laylah nodded. "My favorite's a good love story."

Almost before they knew it, they ran out of scarf sets. They'd managed to walk the length of eight blocks, hang twenty-two sets, and she'd learned that Tim was twenty-nine, three years older than herself. Of course, he liked action movies or mysteries and she liked family films and romantic comedies, he liked to run and she definitely didn't. She'd asked him again about his birthday, but he'd just smiled and shook his head.

Ronnie and Brandon had kept pace with them and they crossed the street toward them when they were done. Laylah pointed toward the diner a few buildings away. "Wanna warm up with some pie?"

Tim arched an eyebrow, but Ronnie nodded. "Sure," she led the way.

Once they piled into a booth and ordered, they talked about Brandon's orthopedic surgeon fellowship that would be finished just a few months before the wedding in July. They quickly turned the conversation to the wedding plans and the guys just let the girls talk. Ronnie wasn't crazy enough to try to do everything herself, but she and Laylah were handling the flowers and decorations.

"I'm just glad you picked colors I look good in," Laylah said as a piece of warm apple pie was put in front of her. "I don't think I would have forgiven you if you'd made me wear something like lemon."

"You said yellow was your favorite color," Tim said.

"It is," Laylah nodded. "But I'm not it's favorite person. I look like death in it."

It was close to nine o'clock when they headed back toward the shop and Laylah offered to drive Tim over to the courthouse since it was getting colder by the minute. His truck was one of two left in the lot and she parked next to it.

"This was more fun than I'd thought," he admitted, taking her hand in his. "I should have known from the minute I met you that you were the one who put those scarves up last year."

Laylah smiled. "Thanks for coming along," she said. "If you have to work late on Friday, just come to my place whenever you get off work."

She leaned toward him and he met her half way. "Okay," his voice was low, and he didn't kiss her right away. She got the feeling that he didn't want to leave. She knew how he felt because she didn't particularly want him to. Finally he sighed and kissed her in a way that made her insides melt. "Good night, Laylah. See you Friday."

"Good night, Tim," Laylah said. "Merry Christmas."


	17. Chapter 17

p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;"On the Twelfth day of Christmas/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; min-height: 12.7px;" /p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim managed to get out of work just after six on Friday, December 23rd, and was at Laylah's just before six-thirty. As usual, he was assaulted with mouth-watering smells as he was greeted with a kiss. He hung up his jacket and followed her to the kitchen./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Laylah went straight to the oven and opened it so Tim glanced around. The plates were on the counter so he headed to the silverware drawer. It had kind of become his routine to set the table. Laylah was still at the stove, so he opened the fridge. She'd started stocking her fridge with his favorite beer so he started to grab one./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "I got some bourbon yesterday," she was dishing food onto plates so she didn't turn around. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Really?" Tim asked. He grabbed the water pitcher and poured himself a glass as Laylah opened the cabinet above the stove and handed him a bottle. It wasn't the most expensive bourbon, but it wasn't the cheapest either. "You're awesome," he said as he grabbed a second glass. She didn't have whiskey glasses so he used a juice glass, adding a little ice and a generous portion of of the caramel colored liquid. "What do you want?" He asked./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "I'll have water for now, please," Laylah picked up the plates and headed to the table. Tim set his drinks on the table and poured her some water before sitting down./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" His plate had a huge pork chop smothered in gooey, syrupy apples, sweet potato casserole, green beans, and a corn muffin. He'd heard that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach but in the last few weeks, he'd realized just how true that statement was. With every meal that Laylah prepared for him, he felt himself drawn to her a little more. Or a lot more, if he were honest with himself. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "How was work?" Laylah asked./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim swallowed his first bite of casserole. "I honestly can't talk about it right now," he said truthfully. The less Laylah knew about the Detroit mafia, the better. He definitely didn't want her knowing anything about the Tonin's, not even their name. She was looking at him carefully so he added. "I'm okay, I promise."/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" After supper, they made quick work of cleaning up before Laylah pulled a couple of mugs out of the cupboard and dished up warm, spiced cider that was simmering on the stove. The aroma was tantalizingly comforting and Tim inhaled heavily after she handed his mug to him and led the way into the living room. A plateful of Christmas goodies was on the coffee table. Homemade cookies, buckeyes, hard candies, peanut brittle, and chocolate covered pretzels made Tim rethink how much he liked sweets as Laylah popped in a movie and turned on the TV. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Four DVDs were on the coffee table next to the plate of goodies. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "We're watching Christmas movies?" He asked./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "It won't kill you," Laylah said with a laugh. "Some of them are funny." He glanced at the DVD covers as Laylah skipped the previews to get to the main screen for "Elf." Aside from "Elf, their was "White Christmas", "Four Christmases", and "It's a Wonderful Life." /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim sighed. Nothing had killed him yet, he reasoned as he sat down on the couch. Laylah sat down too. She didn't smash herself against him, but she wasn't far away either. He liked her nearness and how comfortable around him she seemed to be. She kicked off her shoes and folded her legs underneath her before pressing play. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" He had to admit that Elf wasn't terrible, but White Christmas pushed his patience. If he hadn't been so bored, he might have picked up on the slight change in Laylah's mood sooner, but as it was, the movie was almost over before he noticed that she seemed a little anxious./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "What?" He asked. He'd stretched out with one leg on the sofa and somewhere along the way, Laylah had rested her head on his shoulder. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Laylah hesitated, then finally sighed. "I think I'm being silly," she said with a slight shake of her head./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Well, what?" He asked as he watched two men who never would have lasted a day in the army sing and dance in uniforms./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "I don't know," she said. "I just don't want Christmas to end."/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim had to admit that this was the best Christmas he'd ever had, but he arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Well, Christmas brought us together and I guess I'm kind of afraid that we're so caught up in the magic of it that-"/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Wait," Tim sat up, causing Laylah to sit up as well. "You think that that's all this is? Like the way I feel about you is just because of Christmas?"/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Not really," she shook her head. "But kind of," she admitted./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim chuckled. "Well I hope not, or February eighteenth will be pretty awkward."/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Laylah looked confused. "What's February eighteenth?"/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim stood up and went to his coat, pulling an envelope out of his jacket. He returned to the couch and sat down. Suddenly, he was a little nervous. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Merry Christmas," he said as he handed over the envelope./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Laylah took the envelope and slowly opened it. The minute she read the tickets, her eyes grew wide and an enormous grin spread across her face. "Eric Church? Are you serious? How did you know I wanted to go?"/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim laughed. "I'm good at my job," he said. It hadn't been hard, he'd just browsed her Facebook page for four minutes before he'd seen her post about wanting to go./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "How did you get these?" She asked. "The concert was sold out in seven and a half minutes! You must've paid a lot for these."/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim smiled. "Not as much as you'd think. I know a guy," he said./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Laylah laughed. "The people you know sound a lot cooler than the people I know," she said. "Rangers, FBI agents, ticket guys," she laughed. "All I can get a good deal on is high quality yarn."/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim laughed. "Well, Merry Christmas," he said as Laylah leaned in for a nice, slow kiss. He gladly returned her kiss, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. She filled his senses and he felt himself becoming intoxicated with her as her arms encircled him too. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Finally they pulled apart and Laylah let out a little sigh. "So it's not just Christmas?" She asked without opening her eyes. She settled her cheek against his chest./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Laylah," he said her name quietly./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Hmm?" She murmured./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim sighed. "My birthday's May twenty-ninth." She sat up and looked at him with wide, surprised eyes and Tim chuckled again. "It's not just Christmas," he said before giving her another slow kiss./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" They pulled apart just as the credits to the movie rolled. "I have something for you too," Laylah untangled herself from him and stood up. She went into the spare bedroom and came out with three brown packages, complete with string, before heading to the kitchen. When she came back, she also had a white baker's box./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Merry Christmas, Tim." She handed everything over. "It's not nearly as cool as Eric Church," she warned. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim looked down at the packages and knew what two were right away, but he didn't want to disappoint Laylah so he didn't let on. He started with the box and found a pumpkin pie he was sure she'd made. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Yes, thank you!" He set the pie on the coffee table and picked up the next package. He'd been right. "How'd you know what ammo I use?" The forty-caliber rounds were perfect for target practice./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Laylah had a guilty look on her face. "I asked Rachel," she admitted./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim laughed as he opened the next package. He'd been right about that too. A bottle of Knob-Creek Single-Barrel bourbon. He set it beside the ammo./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "You said you'd want ammo and bourbon," Laylah reminded him./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "I did," he said with a smile./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" The last package had the stamp of a deer in the forest and Tim took his time untying the brown twine before peeling back the paper. He found the back of a simple, black picture frame and when he turned it over, he saw a picture of their smiling faces with the gingerbread house between them. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" He was overcome with emotion as he looked at the photo. It was before they were really Tim and Laylah, but the smiling faces in the picture would never tell. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" His silence apparently made Laylah nervous. "Do you like it?" she asked./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim had to regain control of his emotions before he could speak. "It's perfect," he said./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" "Really?" Laylah asked with an odd mixture of doubt and hope./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000;"span style="font-size: 11pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" Tim set the frame on the coffee table and gathered Laylah into his arms. "Really," he said. "I got everything I wanted for Christmas this year." And he kissed her again./span/p 


End file.
